Santa is the New Cupid
by Celtic Quill
Summary: Written for Faberry Week, Day 4, "Caught." When Rachel thinks Quinn has gotten Finn for her Secret Santa, she makes it her mission to catch her in the act.
1. Chapter 1

I hope everyone is having a fantastic Faberry Week! XD I know I am; I'm loving seeing our fandom come together with so much awesome Faberry goodness.

This is written for Day 4, prompt "Caught." It will be a short story, not very many chapters long, so I should have it all finished and posted within a few days.

Happy Birthday to Rachel Barbra Berry! :D In honor of our favorite dramatic little diva, I will adopt her philosophy: "I need applause to live." My philosophy is the same, but substitute "applause" for "reviews." ;) Haha.

This story takes place during season two, in December. Yay Christmastime! xD It's canon, except for a few things, like Santana and Brittany are already a couple, and Finn and Rachel did break-up, but then Finn went out with Quinn for a week before they broke-up, too. (You'll see more what I mean when you read the story.)

As always, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

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CHAPTER ONE

"All right," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands together to capture the attention of his chatty Glee Clubbers. It being a Friday, they were all excited for practice to end so they could start the weekend. "Settle down, everybody. I have an announcement to make!"

As the teenagers fell into silence and blinked at him with expectance, he cleared his throat and continued. "We haven't been acting like a team lately. Everyone has been bickering like children, and frankly, I'm sick of it."

"Aren't there child labor laws that keep kids from brickering?" Brittany Pierce whispered to her girlfriend, Santana Lopez.

"No, it's _bick_ering, and you mean bricklaying."

"So, I've decided that we all desperately need something fun to boost our morale, something that will make each of us do something selfless for somebody else in here," Mr. Schue said. "You may not want to at first, but I promise, giving is the best thing for the soul."

"Okay, _ew_, Mr. Schuester, this isn't _that_ kind of club," Tina Cohen-Chang said with disgust.

He sighed. "I'm not referring to anything inappropriate, Tina."

Noah "Puck" Puckerman's eyes dimmed and smile fell.

"What I'm _talking_ about is… Secret Santa!" Mr. Schue beamed.

"Aw, right!" Artie Abrams pumped his fist in the air.

"You are aware that some of us here are _Jewish_, right?" Rachel Berry said, sitting up straighter in her front-row-center seat and crossing her arms over her chest. She lifted her chin in defiance.

From two rows directly above her, Quinn Fabray pursed her lips at the back of the girl's head. "Chill; it's not like we're making you eat bacon."

"God, Quinn, can you go one whole conversation without mentioning your love for the greasy fatty animal strips known as 'bacon' to you, and 'senseless murder' to the rest of us who actually _have _a conscious?" Rachel snapped back, twisting halfway around to glare at her.

Quinn's eyebrows jumped at the heated tone, but she held her hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is, Santa is the part of Christmas that has nothing to do with religion."

"Unless your religion is consumerism," Mike Chang said.

"Or the religion of jolly fat bellies, cookies and milk, and long white beards," said Sam Evans. "Like my uncle Earl."

"So, you know," Quinn said, still speaking to Rachel – whose face was no longer furious, but rather flickering into a careful brand of thoughtfulness, "you should participate." She broke eye-contact to smooth out her long, Bohemian-style skirt. "Not that I _care_, but…whatever."

"Yes, Rachel," Mr. Schue finally said, making her attention face forward again to land on him. "Of course I'm aware that not everyone here celebrates Christmas, which is why this is a completely _voluntary_ assignment. Do you want me to take your name out of the basket? Puck, how about you?" He held up said woven basket from on top of the piano and waved it back and forth so that a sea of little white strips of folded paper tumbled over one another.

"Nah, I'll participate," Puck said. "Any excuse to get presents, right? I just hope whoever gets me doesn't choose something totally lame."

"Yeah, that'd be such a waste," Artie shot him an agreeing nod.

"That's the holiday spirit," Santana sneered.

"How about you, Rachel?" Mr. Schue asked.

Before she could answer, Finn Hudson spoke up from where he sat a few chairs over from Rachel. "I think you should do it, Rach. It will be more fun if everyone joins in."

Rachel whipped to face him, her face lighting up with a delighted grin at his direct address of her. "O-okay, Finn! You're right…and as Glee co-captain, I need to set an example for everyone else."

"You really don't," Mercedes Jones said. "We're capable of making our own decisions without your lead."

Finn smiled his trademark half-smile at Rachel. "Cool. They'd all appreciate that."

"Do they even realize how arrogant they are, or does it just come second nature to them?" Mercedes stage-whispered to Lauren Zises.

"Probably second nature," said Lauren.

"More like _first_ nature," an eavesdropping Santana corrected.

Quinn glared down at Finn and Rachel, smiling at each other, and folded her arms over her chest. "Wow, _of course_ Rachel only wants to do it now that Finn tugged her little leash for her and told her to."

Rachel shot up and spun to face Quinn, jabbing a finger at her. "That's enough out of you, Fabray!"

Quinn stood up and planted her hands on her hips. "And what are you going to do about it? Careful with the tone, or Santa is going to have to fire you from the North Pole. You can't be his special elf with anger issues like that."

"I wouldn't want to be an elf regardless because they aren't unionized and probably get paid less than minimum wage!" Rachel retorted.

Before she could stop it, a small but amused smile flickered at Quinn's lips, sparking in her eyes. _Only Rachel would come up with a comeback like _that, she thought.

"Don't you laugh at me!" Rachel stomped her foot with so much petulance, and it _might_ have been one of the cutest things Quinn had ever seen, especially with how much indignity flashed through those big, bright brown eyes.

Quinn bit down on her lower lip to keep it from tugging further back; she sat back down and crossed her hands in her lap, trying not to notice the way Rachel's dorky red-with-white-snowflakes sweater hugged against her breasts whenever she puffed out her chest like that. "Whatever you say, Jingles."

"Oh, wow, what an _original_ elf name," Rachel made a show of rolling her eyes. "I am _so_ impressed!" She dropped back into her chair with a huff, crossing her arms. Half a second later, she turned around to shoot Quinn a quick glare. "That was sarcasm, by the way!" She faced forward again and flipped her shoulder-length brown hair over her shoulder.

And this time, as everyone watched Mr. Schuester for his reaction, Quinn let herself indulge in a full, secret smile, lips closed but eyes open with tender affection.

Mr. Schue chose to ignore all the quarrelling; instead, he pasted on a tight smile. _Just two more weeks until winter break, _he told himself. _Just two more weeks, and you're home free…_

"You will all come up one by one and select a name from the basket," he said. "You are not to tell _anyone_ whose name you draw. Next week, every day you will leave a note in your person's locker; you can make it a mystery and a series of clues, you can write poems, or even just nice little messages like 'I hope you have a fantastic day.' Then, on Friday's Glee practice, we will all gather here with the gifts we bought – a ten- to –twenty-dollar price rang – and exchange them with our Secret Santa." He paused for a moment to let that all sink in. "Sound good?"

When he was met with more nods and smiles than grumbles and eye-rolls (though there were plenty of those, too) he grinned and plopped the basket back onto the piano. "All rightie! Who wants to come on up and draw first? Remember, this is _Secret_ Santa; it takes the fun out of it if you all know who each other has. Also, I feel I should remind certain people" he raised his eyebrows at Puck, who scowled back "that the notes and gift you choose should all be _school-appropriate_."

As Mr. Schue spoke, Rachel only half-listened. She side-eyed Finn, who watched their teacher with rapt attention. The wheels cranked in Rachel's mind, greasing with a fresh scheme and picking up speed until her heart started accelerating with that familiar mix of determination and excitement.

Ever since Finn had broken up with her last month, she had been plotting ways to get him to take her back. Her high school experience was not complete without him on her arm, her Glee co-captain and star football player who all the girls swooned over and yet he had chosen Rachel time and time again.

Until he had chosen _Quinn_, getting back together with the blonde just a week after he had dumped Rachel.

Of course, he had only dated Quinn for a week – last week – until he'd decided to dump her, too, over the weekend. Rachel remembered the smug joy she'd felt this past Monday when Finn and Quinn had walked into the choir room separately, had not sat next to each other, and didn't speak the whole time.

Rachel had cornered Finn afterward and asked him if he and Quinn were having issues. When Finn told her he had broken up with Quinn, Rachel had had to run off without responding to him so that she could engage in a fit of excited giggles, fist pump the air a few times, and happy-dance. (And then she had had to pay Jacob Ben Israel – who had been lurking behind the dumpster at the corner of the hall she had taken to, filming the whole thing for his blog – her lunch money for a week so he would erase that particular part of his tape.)

Since then, she'd been playing it subtle and coy with Finn, only having hinted – and flat-out saying – that they should resume their place as top Glee couple – usurping current title-holders Brittany and Santana – only twice this week instead of every time she wanted to, which was every time she saw him.

And now, Mr. Schue was presenting the perfect plan for her on a silver platter! Well, okay, more like in a woven basket, but same thing, kind of.

She _had_ to get Finn for Secret Santa; she would choose the most perfect, most sentimental, most _romantic_ gift, and Finn would tear-up when receiving it and take her back right then and there, pulling her into his arms and dipping her back like in an old black-and-white romance movie as he kissed her long and deep, and the school orchestra would just so happen to be walking by at the time and practicing their instrumental version of 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight.'

_Suck it, Fabray!_ Rachel thought with maniacally wide and gleaming eyes, a wicked smirk stealing up her mouth. Better than reclaiming Finn as her boyfriend was the satisfaction she would get in rubbing it in Quinn's stupidly perfect little face of beauty and loveliness and all those other synonyms for 'gorgeous.' Not that she always thought about Quinn and how pretty she was, of course, but it was just impossible _not_ to notice it… Anyway. Her plan to get Finn back was complete, and now all Rachel had to do was ensure she was his Secret Santa.

Maybe she should thank the jolly fat man after all. You know, as soon as he invested in some other means of transportation rather than using those poor reindeer.

"I would like to draw first!" Rachel said, jumping up and smoothing her hands down the sides of her miniskirt, a shade of red that perfectly matched her sweater. She had at least paired some black tights with them to ward off the winter cold from her legs. Also, the last time she had worn a skirt with all that bare skin showing, she _knew_ she had seen Quinn staring at her legs, which meant that the blonde was surely criticizing them for not being as long, toned, and former-cheerleader-y as her own.

"Okay, Rachel, then come on down!" Mr. Schue said in a _Price is Right_ voice and _way _too cheery grin that elicited no laughs but rather some grimaces and an awkward cough through the ensuing silence.

A skip to her step, Rachel bounded over to the basket and stood on tippy-toe to get the best access to it. Tongue peeking out the side of her mouth in faux-concentration, she plunged a hand into the basket…and then pretended to wobble on the toes of her shiny black Mary-Janes.

"Whu-WHOOOAAAA!" she shouted with a superb amount of horror and surprise, if she did say so herself, popping her eyes wide and dropping her jaw and spinning her arms through the air wildly as she rocked herself from side-to-side.

"Oh my God; it's happening," Santana whispered to Brittany with thinly-controlled glee, "She's finally cracked!"

"Stop the madness," Brittany whimpered.

"Oh dear; I am about to FAAALL!" Rachel cried, pitching herself to the side – and making sure to knock the basket off the piano with her. Mr. Schue jumped forward to try to catch her, but Rachel was already hitting the ground on her hip (_ouch_, that would leave a bruise for sure, but it was a small price to pay for love – and getting to rub said 'love' in Quinn Fabray's face, of course). She landed amongst the flurry of white paper slips that had fallen from the upturned basket.

"I have fallen," she said in a raspy voice, as if all the wind and strength had been knocked out of her. She stretched out a twitching hand in front of her and looked over at Finn with heavy, pathetic blinks.

"Get her some water!" Brittany leaned forward in her seat, fingers gripping the edges of her chair. "Medic; medic!"

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Finn asked, starting to stand up to help her, but Mr. Schue beat him to it.

Sighing to himself – _just two more weeks, William, just TWO MORE WEEKS_ – Mr. Schue bent down and helped Rachel back to her feet.

Quinn gaped at Rachel, hardly believing a person as dramatic and dorky as this could actually exist…and feeling her lips fighting not to smile that she did.

"I'm fine," Rachel said, nodding grimly as she dusted herself off. "Thanks, Mr. Schuester. My hip has been bruised, but at least my talent is uninjured."

Mr. Schue knelt to pick up the basket, and was about to start collecting the twelve slips of paper, too, until Rachel cried out, panicked, "Wait!"

He halted, looked at her with a cocked eyebrow of annoyance. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just, uh…let me get all that for you. As _I_ was the one who was clumsy enough to knock it over in the first place," she said with what she thought was a winsome smile, though it just made Mr. Schue release a tired breath.

"All right," he said.

Rachel dropped to her knees and started sifting through the papers, pulling them all into a big pile to scoop up. As subtly as possible, she squinted and used her pinky finger to bend open the strips as she did so, searching for Finn's name. She couldn't peel them open enough to read the whole name without giving away what she was doing. She saw 'ren,' 'edes,' 'Pu', and even 'Santa', amusingly enough (she knew it would spell out 'Santana' if you opened up the whole paper, but she giggled to herself at imagining Santa Claus actually being in their Glee Club), and finally, her eyes found 'in.' You know which name in here had the letters 'in' in them? F_in_n, that's who!

Grinning with pride and jubilance, she plucked that strip of paper between two careful fingers and stood up. "I'll collect the rest later," she told Mr. Schue. "But this is the one I want to choose for Secret Santa!"

"All right," Mr. Schue smiled. "Open it up and give it a read, but don't say it out loud."

"Of course not," Rachel smirked in victory and peeled the paper all the way open, letting her greedy eyes feast upon it and confirm that her epic plan had been a success thus far.

But when she read the full-version of the name, she had to control a groan from popping out. _Tina_, the paper read. Those two stupid letters, the 'i' and 'n' next to each other, mocked her.

She thought fast. "I, uh, I got my own name. I'll have to draw again." Hurrying back to her knees, she re-folded the paper and set it aside, pawing through the papers again.

"For Santa's freaking sake, just choose one already," Puck huffed. "By the time you get done, Christmas will already be here!"

Rachel ignored him – and the echoes of disgruntled agreement from more than half of the choir room – and searched desperately for Finn's name, which was hard to do when she could only see a few letters. Finally, she found it – nudging one strip of paper halfway open showed 'inn.' It _had_ to be Finn this time!

Leaping back to her feet, she smirked with even more satisfaction this time and unfurled the paper, reading the name of her destined-to-be lover…

_Oh, Barbra, NO!_

Her eyes froze in wide-eyed glee until the emotion inside of them slipped into horror. Her smirk twitched painfully tight, a mockery of triumph. Her heart fell right out of her chest and flopped around all over the other paper strips, like a fish out of water.

Because you know who _else_ has 'inn' in their name?

According to the slip of paper and Mr. Schue's messy handwriting: _Quinn_.

Quinn

freaking

Fabray.

_! ! ! ! ! ! ! !_ Rachel thought. (That was it. Her emotion could be summed up in a series of exclamation points.)

"I have to draw again," Rachel said quickly, the previous panic returning but ten times stronger. She whirled toward Mr. Schue. "There's been a mistake."

"I know I wrote each person's name only once, so no, there hasn't been another mistake," Mr. Schue said sternly. "You get who you get. Now, please, go sit back down so we can move along here."

"But Mr. Schuester – "

"No, Rachel! You are being incredibly rude and selfish. _Got sit down!_"

Feeling properly shamed and scolded, Rachel frowned down at the piece of paper, balling it up in her fist, as she stormed back over to her seat and sank down in it, posture slumped and heart deflated.

Out of all the people in here, she had to get her freaking _arch-nemesis _for Secret Santa! She would have to play it nice and buy a gift for the girl who hated her and always stole Finn from her. What were the odds of _that_ happening, huh?! (Well, one-out-of-twelve, to be exact, but it felt more like one-out-of-one-thousand, and Rachel had of course gotten stuck with her anyway.)

After Mr. Schuester picked up the papers and put them back in the basket, he called up whoever wanted to go next.

Rachel watched with bitter jealousy as one by one, her fellow Glee Clubbers walked up to the basket and pulled out a name. One of them would be getting a name that read _Finn_. That slip of paper belonged to _her!_ She had bruised her hip over it and everything! Had tossed all dignity out the window for it. Had kneeled down on dirty choir room tile for it. _UGH!_

Carefully, she gauged their reactions, seeing if someone mouthed Finn's name when reading their paper to their self, or if they looked over at the boy, or any other tell. She got nothing. These people sucked at being obvious. (They could really learn a thing or two from her sometime, she thought with scathing contempt for their poker faces.)

Last to choose from the basket was Quinn. Rachel sat up straighter as the blonde strode to the piano, her Bohemian-print skirt swishing against the ankles of her little black booties, her golden-blonde hair swinging between her shoulder blades like a freaking shampoo commercial.

Side-eyeing Finn, Rachel saw that he stared after Quinn with a puppy-dog look in his eyes, which was incredibly annoying _and_ confusing, because _he_ had broken up with _her_, so why did he appear to be fawning over her? Typical boy behavior, she figured, always wanting what they can't have, even if they were the one to decide they couldn't have it.

She stopped checking out Finn from her peripheral vision and focused fully on Quinn instead as she dropped her hand into the basket and pulled out the last slip of paper.

Quinn unfurled it, and there, just for a second but _there!_, sprang a pleasantly surprised little smile on those stupidly full and pretty lips, a weirdly shy sort of happiness in her eyes before she was resuming her normal appearance of indifference.

But as that tender expression flickered over the blonde's countenance, Rachel could have _sworn_ Quinn sent it at the front-row.

Besides herself, the only person in the front row was Finn…

Rachel's blood ran cold.

_No_, she thought. _It couldn't be_…

But it was. It _had_ to be.

Quinn had gotten Finn for her Secret Santa.

And if that look had been any indication, she still pined after the boy and was going to use this to her advantage to win him back, just like Rachel had been planning.

"Okay, guys, that concludes this Friday's Glee lesson!" Mr. Schue was saying, but Rachel was busy glowering at Quinn as she swished by in her stupidly fashionable skirt, the stupid scent of lovely, sweet-floral perfume wafting from her as she passed in this stupid way that made Rachel's stomach kind of flutter. Which was just so _stupid_…and flowery.

She strained her neck and eyeballs trying to discreetly read Quinn's slip of paper, but Quinn had already folded it back over and was cradling it within the palm of her hand, protecting it as if it were a baby bird.

"I'll see you all next week," Mr. Schue continued. "Have a good, safe weekend!"

Chairs scraped back and backpacks hoisted onto shoulders, chatter filling the air as they prepared to leave for the weekend.

And Rachel, she squeezed the slip of paper with Quinn's name on it harder into her fist, the wheels in her mind turning anew as she rethought her plan.

This wasn't over yet.

She could still get Finn as her Secret Santa, and thus, get him as her boyfriend.

And, of course, get to rub it in Quinn's face.

Rachel's calculating smirk returned; she started rubbing her hands together, feeling the paper crumble and gather sweat between her palms.

_Merry Christmas, Fabray_, she thought. _I hate to break it to you, but you're going to get a mighty big lump of coal in your stocking. And that lump of coal is me kissing Finn in front of you. Oh yes, I've seen how jealous you get over it, how whenever we kiss, you look like you want to rip us away from one another, surely so you can claim Finn's mouth with your despicably pretty one. Seriously, what kind of lip-balm do you use? Er, anyway: So, blondie, instead of singing 'ho, ho, ho' this holiday season, I will be chirping a different tune. And that tune is 'ha…ha…h- '_

"Rachel?"

Mr. Schue's voice yanked her from her thoughts; her now-startled gaze jumped to his exhausted one.

"Are you going to sit there rubbing your hands together all weekend, or can you go so I can lock the door behind us?"

Embarrassment coloring her cheeks red, she swiveled in her seat to find that she was the only one left. Plotting revenge on your enemy tends to space you out, she thought.

"Oh, right, sorry." She stood and shouldered her schoolbag and purse.

"It's okay," Mr. Schue said with a tired smile and even more so tired eyes.

_Two more weeks,_ he coached himself. _Just two more weeks_…

And Rachel, she was thinking, _Two more days… Just two more days…_

For after the weekend, she would launch the next phase of her plan into action.

For once, Monday couldn't get here fast enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for all of the support so far! :D I hope you continue to enjoy.

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CHAPTER TWO

"You're late," Rachel huffed, sticking her hands on her hips.

"By, like, five minutes," Puck rolled his eyes and sat down next to Artie. "You're lucky I even came at all. I could still be sleeping. I _should_ still be sleeping."

"Maybe you _are_ still sleeping," Brittany said. "Maybe we're all in a dream right now."

"Trippy," said Mike.

"More like a nightmare," Santana shuddered. "I see enough of you losers in my _waking_ hours; 'no, thank you' to you guys invading my beauty sleep."

"Quiet down, please," Rachel said, transferring her hands to clasp in front of her. "I'm sure you all are wondering why I called you here today."

Artie yawned and then asked, "Yeah, what's the big emergency?"

"And where's Finn?" Mercedes asked. "If this is a 'crucial Glee meeting that holds the very life of the club itself at stake'" she used rather sardonic finger-quotes "shouldn't the other captain be here?"

"First, I am impressed you memorized the wording that well," Rachel said. "Second, Finn is not here because this is a meeting _about_ Finn."

"Ooh, are we voting to overthrow him and elect a new co-captain?" Tina asked with a bit too much excitement.

"Anarchy!" Brittany cheered, pumping a fist. "Bring down the man!"

"No, no," Rachel said, tone scolding and eyes hardening at the two girls calling for rebellion. "This isn't about _overthrowing_ Finn; _really_, Tina?" Tina gave an innocent half-shrug but looked embarrassed.

Rachel took a step forward to her seated friends, relishing how, for once, she was taller than them. When she spoke again, her eyes grew wide and intense and her tone became ominous. "This is about an even darker, grittier, life-or-death situation…"

She let her eyes run over the ten Glee Clubbers who sat before her: Tina, Mike, Mercedes, and Lauren blinked at her with bored annoyance; Santana had taken out a nail file and was buffing her manicure; Brittany crossed and uncrossed her eyes and muttered "_whoa_" to herself; Artie was starting to fall asleep in his wheelchair; Puck was flexing his bicep and making little kissy faces at it; Sam was looking at his phone; and Quinn, surprisingly enough, _she_ was the only one regarding Rachel with interest, her head cocked as she lowered the book she had been reading and stared over the top of it, taking in Rachel's authoritative stance without her usual contempt but rather with softly raised eyebrows.

"I am talking about, of course…" She waited a dramatic beat. When the majority of them still didn't pay attention to her, Rachel stomped her foot loudly and raised her voice just short of a yell. "I am _talking_ about _of course_..." Everyone looking at her now (most of them radiating annoyance), she continued. "…Secret Santa."

A moment of silence, exchanging of confused looks, and then Mercedes spoke first. "Wait…what?"

"Secret Santa," Rachel repeated.

"Is that why Finn's not here?" Mike asked. "Did you draw him, and now you want our advice on what to get him?"

"That must have been why she freaked out when she read the paper," Lauren said. "Must be awkward getting your ex-boyfriend."

"Freaked out? That's a normal reaction from Miss Prima Donna," Santana lifted her eyebrows, to which Lauren nodded and amended a "true."

"Who's Donna?" Brittany asked.

"Honestly, it would be more dramatic if she _wasn't _dramatic for once," Artie said, blinking sleepily.

"Wait, Donna is dramatic?" Brittany whipped confused eyes around; Santana patted her arm.

"Wait, wait, oh my God, do you guys remember the time when she didn't get that solo, and she stormed out of the room because of it?" Puck pretended to be excited until he let a look of faux-understanding "dawn" on him. "Oh, wait, that literally happens once every freaking week."

Rachel's nostrils flared; she opened her mouth to retort, but Tina was already speaking. "Remember when she quit the club last year and went to be in Sandy Ryerson's play?"

As everyone broke out into discussing Rachel's biggest freak outs and diva antics, giggling at fond memories that were _not_ so fond to Rachel, she cleared her throat, took in a gulp of air, and then sang a long, loud high-note, not stopping until everyone was covering their ears and glaring at her again.

"Okay, but wait," Brittany said through the silence, voice a frustrated whine. "Seriously, guys, _who's Donna?_"

Santana whispering the explanation to her girlfriend, Rachel proceeded, reveling in all eyes on her.

Puffing out her chest and shaking her neck to send her hair swinging against her shoulders, she said, "I would appreciate it _greatly_ if you miscreants would stop conversing over my past and would actually listen to what I have to say _now_. If you're not going to take this seriously, then the door's right there!" She smirked at her brilliant threat and pointed her entire arm at the exit.

"Okay," Mercedes shrugged.

"Sounds good to me," Sam said, elbowing a nodding-off Artie who shot upward in his wheelchair and exclaimed with groggy, half-asleep alarm, "Please don't eat me!"

"Hallelujah, Jesus," said Santana.

They all started standing up and grabbing their bags.

Rachel's smirk faltered and eyes flashed with panic. "Wait, no! No, no!" She started gesturing wildly, rushing forward, fingers stabbing at the chairs. "_Sit!_ _You!_ Sit!"

"We're not dogs," Puck snapped.

"Yeah, you're the only _bitch_ in here," Lauren said.

Rachel felt them slipping through her fingers like ten bars of vocally-incompetent, sexually-ambiguous soap; her mouth floundered, making strange noises, neck cracking side-to-side as she watched them start to descend the risers.

A voice cut through the air, soft but firm, the authority in it hidden behind a façade of casualness: "How about you all shutup, stop being so damn immature, and listen to whatever Rachel has to say for once? You know, without being such jerks about it."

Movements froze as all eyes swung to Quinn Fabray, the only one still sitting. She read her book, licked a fingertip, and turned the page, eyes roving across a sentence as if she hadn't spoken at all, and certainly couldn't be bothered to wait around and gauge their reaction.

Rachel's jaw practically unhinged to the floor. Had _Quinn Fabray_ just stood up for her? Quinn Fabray, the girl who used to order the jocks to douse Rachel head-to-toe with Slushies, who used to call her a plethora of insults, who just last month pretended to befriend Rachel to write a song with her but ended up verbally slashing her apart by the piano until Rachel fled in tears, _that_ very same Quinn Fabray, she had just _stood up_ for Rachel? It would be less surprising if Mercedes suddenly declared hatred toward tater tots.

"Um, yes," Rachel said, gathering her composure the best she could, though her astonished – and suspicious – gaze kept sliding over to Quinn, whose nose remained buried in her book…though her eyes had stopped moving left-to-right. "What Quinn said… _Please_."

Grumbling, the group retook their seats. Perhaps it had been over the influence of the magic P-word (thanks, Barney!), or maybe it had been Quinn's HBIC tone and how brilliantly subtle it was executed, or maybe it was an entirely different reason – either way, they only stared at Rachel with _mild_ irritation now.

"Thank you," Rachel said, the words gentle and genuine, her eyes taking in everyone until jumping back to Quinn for a second or two. Quinn lowered her book into her lap, and as soon as those eyes – so bright green, even from yards away – landed on Rachel's, Rachel felt a weird swoop of her stomach and quickly looked out at everyone again.

"Now…" She ran her hands over her miniskirt. "I called you all here this morning not because _I_ have Finn for Secret Santa, but because one of _you_ do." She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes back over to Quinn at that part.

"And?" asked Tina.

"_And_, whichever of you has him, I was hoping you would trade with me. And then one of you would trade with the person who trades with me." _Because the person who has Finn is the person who I have, and I can't exactly let her have herself for Secret Santa._

"That's…" Mike blinked. "Sort of confusing."

"And all kinds of crazy," Santana said. "Why are you so obsessed with Finn? Like, seriously? Are you lactose-intolerant and the only way you can get your fix of big lumps of cheese is by hanging around that human cheddar-ball?"

Rachel huffed, choosing to ignore their comments. When all else fails: bribery. Digging through her purse on the stool beside her, she whipped out her wallet and flipped through its contents. "I have…eighteen dollars and…fifty-five cents on me right now. I will _pay_ whoever has Finn to swap with me. Or, if that is not sufficient, I will give you one-hour of free vocal lessons." She beamed, proud of her quick thinking. "Frankly, all of you could use my help in that department anyway, so it's win-win!"

"No, it's cray-cray," said Lauren.

"Seriously, none of you want to trade with me?" Rachel waved around her wallet. "The opportunity alone for me to vocal coach you is priceless, so… Come on! Going once…twice…"

Quinn sighed and pulled her book up to her face.

"_Rachel_," Brittany said, with an uncharacteristic amount of chastisement hardening her tone. As she continued, her voice took on that weirdly monotone and pedantic quality it got sometimes, shocking everyone else in the room into rapt attention. "You're completely ruining the point of Secret Santa. It's not all about _you_; fate decided who we got. I don't want to piss off Santa and have him leaving coal in my stocking, so I for one am not going to challenge him. Frankly, I think you're a terrible influence and your very presence here today is insulting to all of Christmas. You must be a South Pole elf."

With that, she stood up in her wintertime Cheerios uniform, hoisted her backpack, and started striding down the risers. It didn't take long before the rest of the club followed after her.

This time, they didn't stop, even as Rachel called after them, panicked, "Wait! Wait!"

When all had gone but Quinn, who stood and stashed her book back into her bag before she slung it over her shoulder, Rachel's eyes narrowed at the blonde who had the nerve to look extra-pretty today with her hair curled in ringlets and her body hugged with a cute little dress.

Throwing her purse onto the stool again, Rachel marched over to her, hands shooting to her hips.

"Excuse me," she used a syrupy-sweet voice that made her smile pucker at the edges. "Quinn? May I please have a word with you?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "I think you just had ten."

Rachel lifted a finger and thought back, mouthing silently until she smirked in triumph. "Actually, that was _eleven_."

"_Wow_, how will I ever fall asleep tonight knowing I guessed the wrong number?" Quinn rolled her eyes. "What is it?"

Rachel bored her eyes into hers. "I know you're Finn's Secret Santa."

Quinn looked thoroughly annoyed. "If you think it's me, then why call this meeting with everyone?"

"I had to ensure that it really _was _you, and by the actions of everyone else, I am now more certain than ever."

"Oh my God! Are you serious?"

"As a forgotten line on Broadway."

Quinn shook her head and clenched her fists, irritation scorching from her with such force that Rachel almost took a step back. "You are so _frustrating!_"

Flashing back to when Quinn had said that same thing in the auditorium last month, Rachel flinched and looked at her shoes.

Quinn took a deep breath to calm her accelerated pulse. "I don't have Finn for Secret Santa."

"I know you do!" Rachel's accusing eyes flung back up to her. "When you got your piece of paper, you smiled and looked over to where Finn was sitting. Just for a second, but it was there. You still like him; I can tell!"

"Why the hell do you even care? You. Are. Broken. Up. With. Him."

"So are you!"

They stood toe-to-toe by this point, glaring at each other, eyes squinted bright with fury.

"Yeah, but I'm not obsessing over how to get him back." Quinn bit down on her lower lip, and with it, the anger broke from her eyes, revealing a softer emotion beneath that Rachel couldn't pinpoint. "I told you to get over your schoolgirl fantasy of life. Do you even remember that, or does your brain reject all information that isn't labeled 'Broadway' or 'Finn'?"

Rachel's chin started to quiver at the memory of Quinn's speech to her in the auditorium. "Of course I remember." Her voice lost all belligerence, shivered a tone cold and naked instead. "I think every day about how you treated me. The things you said."

Quinn blinked, confused. "…How I treated you?"

Rachel folded her arms over her chest, feeling small, well, smaller than usual. "You can underestimate me all you want, Quinn. Maybe I'm not perfect, blonde, gorgeous Quinn Fabray, but _some_ people find me desirable."

Quinn gaped at her. "What the hell are you _talking_ about? It's like whenever I try to talk sense into you, you twist everything around and speak gibberish back to me."

"The only thing I will be _twisting_ is Finn's devotion out of your perfectly-manicured claws and into the grasp of my own 'man hands.'" Rachel's voice cracked on the nickname. "Good day, Quinn. I will make it my mission to prove you a liar. Let the games begin!"

And with that, she pivoted on her heel and marched out of the room.

Quinn buried her face in her hands and released a silent scream into her palms. When she pulled her hands away, she saw Rachel striding back inside, head held high…and cheeks freshly red.

"I, uh, forgot my purse."

* * *

Rachel went to her locker to swap out her supplies from her morning to her afternoon classes.

She hoped to find Finn at his locker, which was right next to Rachel's (if you think that's a coincidence and not an example of Rachel meddling, then you must not know the girl very well). But alas, he must have still been at lunch or already been to his locker.

Inside her locker, she found a piece of paper, the top corner still wedged through the vents.

Rachel smiled; she'd been so enthralled with wanting to be Finn's Secret Santa that she had forgotten all about her own. Doing a little happy-dance, she plucked out the paper and opened it.

The words were typed rather than written, so she wouldn't be able to compare handwriting, to her disappointment. But the contents more than made up for it.

**Your voice is like an angel**

**Hearing you sing is the best part of my day**

**Second only to**

**Seeing you smile.**

**And if I were to try and buy you from someone**

**It would be way more than 18 dollars and 55 cents**

**Spending less than a million just wouldn't make sense**

**Because you are priceless.**

**Yours Truly,**

**Your Secret Santa**

Rachel's smile blossomed; her cheeks warmed and she released this airy little giggle. Clutching the note to her soaring heart, she looked around the hallway, in search of one of her Glee Clubbers hiding in the shadows and watching her reaction, but she found none.

Closing her eyes against a happy sigh, she kissed the letter and tucked it into her purse for safekeeping.

After school, she would go buy a frame for it; it was the first nice message she'd ever received, especially from the usually bratty Glee Club members. But someone in there actually _appreciated _her!

Wondering who it was made Rachel remember her own Secret Santa obligations. Quickly, she took out a piece of notebook paper and a pen. It took her a few minutes to figure out what to write; she realized she really didn't know that much about Quinn, and the stuff she did know weren't exactly warm and fuzzy, especially not after their fight this morning.

Sighing, she figured she would use the most obvious compliment: Quinn's beauty.

In her perfect penmanship, she wrote: _You're the prettiest girl I've ever met. – Secret Santa_. She stopped herself just in time before sealing it with a gold star sticker. Now _that_ would be a giveaway.

She went and slipped the note into Quinn's locker, smirking at herself. Quinn was wrong; someone _did_ find Rachel desirable, even outside her "fantasy of life." Someone, in fact, seemed to maybe even have a _crush_ on Rachel.

_Take that, Quinn!_ she thought, sashaying down the hallway. _Looks like I reign victorious this time_.

Oh, yes, Quinn Fabray may have won the battle, but Rachel Berry would win the war.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Rachel didn't know how Jacob Ben Israel did this every day.

Just fifteen minutes hiding behind the dumpster, she would have already gagged from the smell, had she not been blessed with a strong gag reflex.

It rank of rotting food, dirt and grime, and, suspiciously, of dirty diapers. She could not just _smell_ the scent but _feel_ it, curling into her pores, taking root inside her nostrils, tickling around her very brain.

But nobody ever said being a detective was glamorous.

Rachel pulled out a miniature tape recorder and held down the red button to record. "Tuesday before school," she said in a hushed, serious voice. "At…" She released the button to stop recording, pulled out her phone, and did a quick Google search: _what is 8 am in military time?_ After browsing the results, she put her phone back in her purse and held down the record button again.

"…oh-eight-hundred hours. No sign of the one called Fabray. But it is still early. Precisely thirty minutes before first bell. I am located behind the main dumpster in the eastern hallway. Hudson-comma-Finn's locker is here. I hope Fabray shows up soon, for I am getting lightheaded. I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning, and it smells _terrible_ here. I honestly cannot breathe without my eyes tearing up."

Finger still pressing the red button, she used her other hand to flip open the dumpster's lid. A _bzzt _sound came from it, weirdly enough, circling past her ears.

"It appears the trash has not been emptied since yesterday. Note to self: complain to Principal Figgins about the custodial department. And…_ohmyGod_, is that a _tooth?!_" She stopped recording and let the lid slam back shut, her entire face seizing in disgust and heart racing with horror.

She took a deep, steadying breath, cleared her throat, and hit the button again. "People far braver than I would have backed out by now. But I must remain strong. I shall not be deterred! I will keep remembering that I am young. Heartache to heartache, I stand. For love, yes, _love_ is a battlefie – Oh my God, she's coming, she's coming!"

Rachel peered out from behind the dumpster as discreetly as possible, straining forward on her tiptoes, one hand resting against the side for balance.

She watched as Quinn rounded the hallway up ahead. The hallway that housed _Finn's_ locker.

"The subject is walking – more like strutting – to her target of destination: locker number two-five-two-oh." The buzzing sound zipped past Rachel's ears again; she paused recording and whipped around, but found nothing.

Shaking out her shoulders to ward off the scare, she continued. "She is now halfway there. She – "

_Bzzt_… It hovered before her eyes: a bee. And not just any bee, but a big fat mammoth bumblebee, wearing its black-and-yellow stripes like a badass prison jumpsuit, a wingspan that was probably longer than Rachel was tall. It was the Godzilla of bees.

Rachel tried to ignore it. "Sh-she," she said into the tape recorder; the bee flew closer.

Stumbling backward, she waved her arm. "No!" she whispered to it fiercely. "No, no, _no!_ Bad bee!"

It flew _closer_. Maybe it mistook her perfume for nectar, or maybe it was attracted by the talent that exuded off her like pheromones.

"Shoo! _Shoo!_" Rachel flung both arms around, panicking. The bee dove toward her; she dove away – colliding right into the dumpster.

Her ferociously spazztastic momentum sent the dumpster shooting away from her, leaving her out in the open. The bee flew through her hair; she screamed and jumped around, running forward, shimmying and flipping her hair around like when Brittany tried to teach hairography.

"Rachel?" Quinn's incredulous voice said.

"Bee!" Rachel batted at the horrendous insect until it _finally _flew away. "BEE!" She stopped spazzing out and doubled-over, clutching her side for breath, panting. "I saw my life flash before my eyes! Oh God, I really regret that haircut I had in middle school." _Wheeze, _pulling her shirt collar aside to wheeze again.

"What is life?" Rachel shuddered; having a giant bumblebee that close to you, trying to poison you to death with its samurai-sword of a stinger…it _does_ something to you.

As she straightened her posture and peeled her eyes up from her shoes, she found Quinn standing only a few feet away, staring at her with far too much amusement for Rachel's liking.

"Just when I think you can't get any more bizarre…" Quinn shook her head, and it had to be a trick of the lighting in the hallway, because her smile almost looked…_affectionate_.

"Ahh-_HAA!_" Rachel said belatedly, the extra gusto she put into her tone and the finger she pointed at Quinn making up for it. "I knew it! I so caught you, Fabray! I bet you feel foolish now, huh?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows at Rachel's wildly disheveled hair, crooked neckline of her cockeyed shirt, and the maniacal gleam in her eyes. "Yeah. _I'm_ foolish."

Rachel's eye twitched. "You know what? I just so happened to _narrate_ just why you're a fool. I caught you red-handed!" She fluttered the tape recorder back-and-forth under Quinn's nose until Quinn swatted at it like Rachel had the bee. "Shall I show you what I mean, _hmmm?_"

Quinn sighed heavily. "Just get it over with."

Smirking, Rachel rewound the tape and hit the 'Play' button. "_...No, no, _no!_ Bad Bee! Shoo! Sh– " _Quickly, she shut it off, blushing.

Quinn clapped a hand to her mouth and shook with giggles; Rachel scowled. "I obviously didn't rewind it far enough. Hold on…" After holding down the rewind for a good amount of time, Rachel hit 'Play' again.

"…_strange rash that won't go away. Remind Daddy to schedule doct – _ " Rachel's eyes widened; she fumbled it to a stop. "I think I went _too_ far back that time," she mumbled, and started to fast-forward it until Quinn pressed a hand to hers, halting her progress.

"No. I've heard enough. Seriously, like _way_ more information than I ever needed, like, ever." Her fingers kind of lingered before slowly pulling away, and it…it _tickled_, that's what it was, to make Rachel's hand tingle in the spot she left.

"That note-to-self was over a month ago, and the rash has since cleared up," Rachel said, lifting her chin. "And that's not even the point. I caught you, Quinn, so you have no choice but to own up to it now!"

"Own up to _what_, exactly?"

"Being Finn's Secret Santa! Why else would you be here so early before school, in the hallway that has _his_ locker, and looking so suspicious while doing so?"

"Okay, first, _I am not Finn's freaking Secret Santa, okay?_ And, second, how did I look" finger-quotes, mocking eyebrows "'_suspicious?_'"

"_Nobody_ struts like you did unless they're up to something." Rachel firmly believed this; it was why she suspected all Victoria's Secret runway models to be working for the CIA.

"Yeah, well, I think you're _on_ something. This is enough insanity for one day." Quinn started striding off. "I'll be going now."

Rachel winced. "Don't say 'bee.'"

Now it was Quinn's turn to smirk; she turned back toward Rachel, raised her eyebrows, and whispered, "_Bzzt_."

Rachel glared at her.

Laughing, Quinn walked off, leaving Rachel behind, fuming after her.

_CUUURRRSSSEEEESE YOOOOUUUUOU, FAAAAABRRAAAY!_ She shook her fist at the retreating figure and watched as she rounded the corner.

Still, as much of a failure as this excursion had been, Rachel now, without a single shadow of a doubt, _knew_ that Quinn was Finn's Secret Santa. And Quinn had lied to her face!

Which meant it was time for Rachel to play dirty…_ack_, bad choice of words. Now she could smell the dumpster again, ghosting all over her.

Luckily for her, she had just enough time before class started to drive home and take a quick shower.

And change her perfume to something less bee-tastic while she was at it.

* * *

Her next message from Secret Santa didn't arrive until she checked her locker before her last class of the day.

Rachel felt oddly nervous to open the folded piece of paper. After the incredibly sweet one from yesterday, she found herself scared that her high-hopes would crash and she would be disappointed by the mediocrity that plagued her company kept in life, yet again.

"Come on, Santa, baby, don't let me down," Rachel whispered, licking her lips. A deep breath later, and she was reading the note, her heart jumping with excitement – and then with jubilance – as she did so.

**Your dramatic personality is my nectar**

**Your annoying persistence is my honey.**

**Will you let me be yours?**

**For you are already mine.**

**Yours Truly,**

**SS**

Rachel reread the note seven times, barely able to breathe. Was this some kind of a prank? Who would write this? It was so…nice. Like, _nice-_nice. Like, okay…_romantic_. Could it be Finn? She only entertained the notion for a nanosecond before dismissing it; this wasn't his style and was frankly too intelligent (it's not an insult if it's true).

She guessed she would just have to wait until Friday to find out like everyone else. She already had one mystery to solve – well, more like, _prove_ (The Curious Case of the Liar Fabray); she didn't need another one to deal with right now.

Oh crap… _Fabray!_ Rachel was really slipping with her own 'SS' duties. She'd almost forgotten, once again, to leave the girl a note. School wasn't over yet though.

At first, she wrote, '_You are also the most stubborn girl I've ever met. I mean this as a compliment. So many people back down too easily nowadays. I appreciate a worthy adversary,' _but decided that might read like a backhanded compliment.

Instead, she settled for: _When not aimed as a putdown to others, I enjoy the level of wit to your verbal banter. – Secret Santa_.

* * *

It was the next day, Wednesday, on her way to lunch, when Rachel's perfect opportunity fell right upon her ears.

Ironically, the one time she _wasn't_ thinking about her mission, but rather minding her own business on her way to the cafeteria, was when she struck gold.

For who else was walking ahead of her, but Quinn and Santana.

Rachel kept a few paces behind, hiding behind people milling by, sticking her neck toward the girls to catch their conversation.

"…want to get mani/pedis after Glee today with me and Britts?" Santana was asking.

"Sorry, but I can't," Quinn said. "I'm getting my gift for Secret Santa."

"Okay, then do it after mani/pedis."

"I can't; I have to get there before the store closes."

"Yes!" Rachel shriek-whispered, clapping her hands and doing a little jump.

Stoner Brett, whom she had been half-hiding behind, whirled and gave her an affronted look. "Would you keep it down?" he sounded personally offended. "Some of us are trying to walk here."

"What does me being loud have to do with you walking?" Rachel snapped. "You're high; go away." She shooed him off with her hand and lurked closer to Quinn and Santana.

Santana was saying something about how she didn't know what to get Mike (apparently she was his Secret Santa, Rachel deduced) but that she was thinking of something having to do with dance.

"So," Santana said, and then spoke the magic question that sent Rachel beaming eagerly, "Who did you get?"

But Quinn's answer was far less satisfactory; she gave a dainty laugh. "I'm not going to tell!"

"What?" Santana sort of laughed, too. "Why not?"

"Because unlike _somebody,_" she nudged Santana playfully, "I can actually keep a secret. And telling it to someone takes some of the fun out of it."

"Whatever, Q. You and your damn morality," Santana said, but Rachel was already falling behind, out of earshot, not wanting to risk getting caught now that she had so much information, enough to roll around in.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Rachel giggled to herself, "Oh, Sweet Barbra, _here I come!_"

When the couple walking next to her raised their eyebrows, she said, "I, uh, found a penny."

The cafeteria was right up ahead, but Rachel took a U-turn and ducked into the girls' restroom. After turning her cell phone on, she scrolled through her contacts and hit the designated option.

It rang once…twice…

"_Hello?_"

"Hey! I'm so glad you picked up. Listen… I need a favor. Could you drop your midterm-studying for a few hours and meet me at McKinley by four o'clock sharp? I need your help… Oh! And make sure to bring a disguise…"


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, thank you all so much for the wonderful support! :D *Hugs!* Please, keep it coming!

Okay, so I was off in the timeline of this, so some things are kind of AU, just in the fact that they happened earlier in this story than they did in canon season 2.

The main thing I'm talking about is when Quinn "befriends" Rachel to write an original song for Regionals, and then she gives her the Faberry-tastic speech about "you have an amazing life ahead of you" and "get it right" in the auditorium, which Rachel spectacularly misunderstands before fleeing in tears. For some reason, I thought that happened in the episode before the Christmas one, but I got the Regionals one confused with Sectionals.

So, for the purpose of this story, the things that happened in Regionals actually happened in Sectionals. Like, New Directions went against the Warblers with an original song and won, but it just happened earlier in the timeline. I hope this isn't too confusing, but if it is, just make your own rationalizations for the timeline, sit back, relax, and (I hope) enjoy. :)

P.S. This is my favorite chapter so far, haha. Parts of it made me laugh out loud when writing it, and I hope you guys have the same reaction while reading!

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

As drastic times call for drastic measures, Rachel found herself doing something she never would have even _dreamed_ of doing if she weren't so invested in her mission.

And that was: Skip out early on Glee.

She did a truly _marvelous_, Tony-worthy job faking a stomachache, if she said so herself. She felt a little guilty slacking on her captainship by leaving at 4:15 rather than at the 4:30 end time, but as it was a one-time thing (and as, she noted bitterly, no one really seemed to _care_), she cut herself some slack.

The black Range Rover wasn't hard to spot amongst all the cheaper-looking cars in McKinley's parking lot. Zipping up her coat over her outfit to ward against the just-above-freezing winter temperature outside, Rachel hurried over to the designated automobile and knocked a fist against the front passenger's side window before opening its door and sliding inside.

The heater welcomed her with a warm wave of air, melting away the goosebumps on her body, as she closed the door behind her and dropped her backpack by her feet on the floor.

"Hello!"

"You're late. By fifteen minutes," Kurt Hummel said in lieu of a cheerful greeting.

Rachel's grin turned apologetic. "I know; I know! Sorry. I told you to get here at four because I figured, knowing you, you would actually get here ten minutes _after_, and I didn't want to miss _all_ of Glee. Missing half is bad enough."

"Well, _I _got here on time," Kurt said, then waved a hand. "But it's okay. Now, come here, you."

Rachel leaned over, and they air-kissed each other's cheeks.

"How's everyone doing?" Kurt asked as Rachel returned to her seat. "Gearing up for Regionals?" It was a testament to his maturity that only a _little_ bit of bitterness seeped into the question.

"No, not this week; it's Secret Santa. Sorry about you guys losing to us at Sectionals… What _are_ the Warblers up to now that their competition season is over?" Eyeing Kurt's Dalton Academy uniform, she didn't think she would ever _not_ think it strange that he was in a different Glee Club for the time being.

"Oh, you know; doing incredibly fabulous things like caroling at nursing homes and gearing up for our big Christmas mall tour. I bet you're _so_ jealous not to be a part of it." His eyes twinkled with self-deprecating mirth.

Rachel smiled softly. "Aw, that sounds like fun. And at least you don't have to worry about competitions, right? You can just relax now."

"Does _that_ sound like fun to you, really, Rachel?" Kurt pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow. "_Relaxing?_"

Rachel couldn't contain a horrified shudder.

"Exactly," Kurt nodded.

Rachel stuffed her hands up to the heater's air vents to warm them further as Kurt said, "So, Secret Santa, huh? Sounds like something schmaltzy enough for Mr. Schue to do this time of year. Who did you get?"

Rachel grimaced, rubbed her palms together and blew on her fingers. "Quinn."

Kurt smirked. "Ooh, I bet you just _love_ having to play nice to her, huh?"

Rachel turned to him with an eye-roll. "Yeah, it's _delightful_."

"What are you going to get her?"

"I have no clue; what do you get the girl who has everything?"

"Maybe you could let her dump a Slushie on your head; she'd probably like that."

"I don't know… She's never actually _physically_ Slushied me before; she would assign somebody else to do it. Besides, she doesn't partake in _that_ particular brand of sugary tomfoolery anymore." Rachel shrugged, and then a second later, her eyes lit up as she remembered something.

"I might not be the greatest Secret Santa to her, but oh my _gosh_, Kurt, you should see the notes my Santa has left me!" She released a giddy little squeal, high-pitched enough that Kurt poked a finger in his ear closest to her.

"Ah, okay," he fought back a wince. "Do you have them with you?"

"I sure do!" Rachel rummaged through her backpack and pulled out the three sheets of paper before thrusting them at Kurt.

He read them in order of Monday's to the one she'd gotten today, which had read, perhaps the most love-letter-y of all so far:

**I think you are adorable**

**I think you are talented.**

**I think the reindeer sweater you wore today is the cutest thing I've ever seen**

**I hate to think that you don't think of me at all.**

**Yours Truly,**

**Secret Santa**

"I don't get it," Kurt frowned. "Are these supposed to be poems? They don't even rhyme. And what do they mean by eighteen-dollars-and-fifty-five cents? That's weirdly specific."

Rachel huffed dramatically. "Poems don't _have_ to rhyme, Kurt! And the money thing is an inside joke between the Glee Club…" She blushed, just slightly, at the memory of her trying to bribe them for Finn. Not her most shining moment. "Even your cynicism cannot spoil the magic for me."

"Good; I'm glad." Kurt handed the papers to Rachel, who put them back in her backpack. "I don't _want_ to spoil it for you." He gave a small but gentle smile. "I'm happy for you, Rachel. Someone in that crop of misfits seems to really like you for you: a full-fledged crush on your diva self. Who do you think it could be?"

"That's the thing! I have _no_ _clue!_ The writing style doesn't sound like _any_ of them, let alone the fact that I think I would faint in shock if any of them actually gave me a compliment for once, especially to this caliber." Tapping a finger to her chin, she furrowed her brow. "Maybe it could be Sam? He hasn't been here even a year yet, so he hasn't had as much time to foster jealousy toward me like the rest… But he's dyslexic, and the notes have perfect spelling, so. Or it could be Artie, _maybe_…"

Kurt shrugged. "Beats me."

"Do you happen to have a fingerprint-detecting kit?" Rachel asked with blatant hope.

Kurt's eyebrows lifted. "No…"

"Darn it. I looked into ordering one online, but it would take a week to get here, and by then I'll already know who my Santa is."

"…_Right_," Kurt said. "Well, as soon as you find out, text me who it is, okay?"

"Okay." Rachel nodded, then broke into a sly grin. "So…speaking of _admirers_…"

Kurt shook his head but failed to hide a happy little smile. "Nuh-uh, Rachel…"

"Oh, _yes_," she giggled and whacked his arm. "How are things between you and _Bla-ay-ne?_" His name left her in a taunting singsong, and Kurt whacked her arm back.

"We are _fine_." He blushed as red as his Warbler's tie.

"Has he _kissseeed_ you again?" She giggled and waggled her eyebrows, doing a little shimmy toward him.

"Okay, enough of the singing; you left Glee early, remember?"

"Don't deflect the question, Kurt."

Sighing – and _smiling_ – Kurt rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay… He _might_ have asked me to duet 'Santa, Baby' with him throughout the mall tour. And he _might_ have kissed me twice since the first time. And he _might_ have used the perfect amount of tongue last time… But, you know, I don't kiss and tell."

Rachel burst into squeals and threw her arms around Kurt, jumping around with him the best she could in the relatively confined space. "Oh my _God_, Kurt, I am _so happy_ for you!"

Kurt couldn't help but to catch her contagious giggles; he hugged her back and jumped around a little, too, even if it made him feel quite stupendously like a dork.

When they calmed down, Rachel wore her trademark megawatt beam as she sank into her seat. "Just wait until I get Finn back, and we can go on double-dates."

"Oh God, Rachel, it's Christmas coming up, not Halloween; you don't have to scare me like that."

Rachel pretended to glare at him before smiling again. She checked the digital numbers glowing the time on his dashboard. 4:25. "It's almost showtime."

"Oh, right," said Kurt. "I almost forgot with all the hullabaloo. _Why_ did you need me to meet you here? You didn't really explain it _at all_ on the phone. You're lucky I even showed up."

"Yes, and I'm grateful for your companionship here, truly, Kurt. I couldn't fill you in over the phone because there wasn't enough time."

"Well? Fill me in now."

Rachel nodded and did just that, telling him all about Quinn having Finn for Secret Santa, and how the blonde miscreant was using this as a platform to win back Finn, which _Rachel_ should be doing, and how Quinn was lying to her about it. She told him how she'd overheard Quinn telling Santana that she would be getting her present after Glee today, and then explained that she herself had left Glee early in order to meet up with Kurt, fill him in, and let Quinn think Rachel was already at home and none the wiser to her plans.

The whole time she talked, Kurt's eyebrows rose higher and higher up his forehead until they practically blended right in with his coiffed hairdo. "Ah," he finally said after Rachel had finished. "It's like I never left."

Then, understanding began to dawn on him, and despite the heater warming the car nice and toasty, he felt suddenly, dreadfully cold. "Wait a minute… You mentioned bringing a disguise on the phone… And… Oh no. Oh _no_, Rachel Berry, we are _not_ going to follow her to the store and stake her out!" He jabbed a finger at her. "I came all this way because I was curious over what shenanigans you got yourself into this time, and because you promised you'd buy me a latte, but this is taking it too far!"

Rachel's eyes flashed with intense determination. "_Nothing_ is too far in love and war, Kurt."

"Are you naturally this crazy, or do you have to work at it? In which case, I say: outstanding job."

But Rachel was only half-listening at this point, for the dashboard now read 4:31, and there, walking through the parking lot toward her car, bundled up in earmuffs, a scarf, gloves, and a cute navy pea coat, was none other than Quinn Fabray.

Bitterly, Rachel noted how well winter wear suited the girl's tall, slim physique, and how bright the blonde of her hair looked against the navy.

"There she is!" Rachel sank down low in her seat, flipped up the hood of her coat and shrank against it. "When she pulls out of the parking lot, I'm going to need you to follow her, close behind but not close enough to be obvious. Got it?" She barked the orders with such intensity and utter bossiness that Kurt wanted to smack her.

"No, I do not '_got it,_'" he hissed back. "I gave up Warblers rehearsal for _this?_ A half-baked recon mission to find out what Quinn is getting for her Secret Santa, who may or may not even _be_ the boy you are so obsessed with?"

Quinn was getting into her car by this point – luckily, parked in sight, only a few away from Kurt's. Rachel peered out the window, starting to panic as Quinn started to pull out of her parking space.

"Okay, I'll buy you _two_ lattes! And a biscotti!" Rachel said. "Just go, go, _go!_"

Kurt groaned. "What have I gotten myself into?"

But he followed Rachel's lead and buckled up before checking over his shoulder and pulling out after Quinn.

* * *

As Kurt followed behind Quinn, always ensuring there was at least one car between them but never more than two, Rachel provided some _oh-so_-helpful commentary and some _not_-so-helpful demands about Kurt's driving, how he should go faster; no, take _that_ right; left, Kurt, LEEEFFFT; stop!, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel!

By the time they had stopped at their fifth red light, Kurt could have strangled Rachel. "Shut up!" he finally snapped, slamming a hand to the steering wheel – and accidentally _blaring_ the horn.

Ahead of them, Rachel could see Quinn twisting around in her seat to check the commotion. Just in time, Rachel leapt _on top _of Kurt, ignoring the seatbelt cutting tight at her waist, and shoved them both down out of sight. Kurt's foot slipped from the brake pedal, but he pushed down on it again just in time, so that they only rolled an inch forward.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he shouted, right in her ear, which, _ouch_. "Wait, never mind, _of course_ you are!"

"You almost gave us away!" Rachel hissed.

"Get. Off. Of. Me," Kurt growled through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring.

Rachel obeyed after a few more seconds, just to be safe.

Kurt glowered at her as he straightened himself back up. "I swear to _Liza_, if my hair is messed up…" He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, patting at his slightly-flattened coif with a scowl.

"The light just turned green!" Rachel said. "And Quinn is turning right. _Hurry up!_"

Muttering colorful obscenities under his breath, Kurt flicked his turn signal and followed after her.

"I'm sorry I jumped on top of you and messed up your hair," Rachel said after several seconds of heavy, uncomfortable silence.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I called you crazy; I should have worded it more tactfully, like, 'insane hobbit-diva.' Is that better?"

Rachel glared at his sarcasm. "On second thought, I'm _glad_ I made your coif fall!"

"You take that back!"

"Then take back what you said about me!"

Snorting with derision, they thrust their chins high into the air, Kurt boring his eyes into the road ahead as Rachel crossed her arms and moped her attention out the window.

"_Fine_," Kurt huffed after a full minute and a half of the thick tension. "I'm sorry."

Rachel sagged with relief and shot him a tentative smile. "Me too. And your hair still looks good."

Kurt returned the smile.

"Ooh!" Rachel shot forward, eyes recaptured to Quinn's car. "She's turning into the outlet mall's parking lot! Follow her and keep her in sight, but park enough away where _she_ doesn't notice _us_… Please." She tacked on the word with enough humility to stop another fight from happening.

Kurt sighed with acquiescence and executed Rachel's orders – or, just _suggestions_, he told himself to quell any leftover annoyance.

He parked at the curb, right between the Gold and Silver jewelry boutique and a Bath & Body Works, three cars over from Quinn. Through the relatively empty parking lot, they heard the sound of Quinn's door shutting behind her, followed by the _beep-beep_ of her locking it.

Rachel pulled out her binoculars with the hot pink rhinestones all over them and lifted them to her eyes, adjusting the viewfinder to zoom in and then sharpen as she followed Quinn. She accidentally landed on Quinn's taut, perky butt nestled within those skinny jeans; blushing, Rachel watched for a mesmerized second before mentally scolding herself and zooming out enough to take in Quinn's whole body and not just her rear as she walked toward her destination. It wasn't _Rachel's_ fault that Quinn swung her hips like that and wore such tight jeans.

"She's heading toward the jewelry store," Rachel narrated aloud for Kurt's benefit.

"Um, yeah, _I know_; she's only like five yards away. You don't even _need_ those," he said, trying to pry aside Rachel's binoculars, but she wrenched away from him. A brief, hand-slapping catfight broke out before Kurt sighed and sank back into his seat.

"Always be prepared, Kurt," Rachel said ominously. "Always be prepared." She zoomed out a little farther as Quinn pushed open the door to the boutique and disappeared inside.

"Oh, she's good…_too_ good," Rachel gave a low, bitter chuckle and shook her head, still staring through the binoculars to watch the door swing shut behind Quinn. "This is unbelievable! She's going to get something for Finn from a _jewelry_ store… Wait." Her blood ran cold; the binoculars froze in her tightening grip. "Do you think she's going to _propose_ to him?"

Kurt barked a disbelieving laugh. "_No_, I do not think she's going to _propose_ to him! She's probably going to buy something for her mom and then get her Secret Santa gift afterward or something. Jeez, Rachel."

Rachel nodded, an odd amount of relief spilling through her; she released a much-needed exhale. "Okay, Kurt, I'm going to need you to go in there and find out what she's buying."

"No."

Rachel lowered the binoculars to her neck and blinked at him. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean, _no_," Kurt shot her with a look. "When I left McKinley behind, I also left behind all of the pointless drama that plagued that Glee Club. I have been studying like crazy all week at Dalton, I missed out on seeing Blaine at Warblers practice for this, and I am too damn tired to play recon with you and find out what Quinn Fabray is buying for some stupid Secret Santa thing. So, _no_."

Rachel pouted and scowled at the same time – a powl? Scowt? Kurt was impressed by the harmony it took her facial muscles to pull it off. "Then why did you even agree to come with me?"

"Because you promised me lattes. I came for that and the snide commentary. I have yet to get my latte, so all I have left is snide commentary."

"You are the _worst_ spy sidekick _ever!_" Rachel smacked her thigh. "_Ugh_."

Kurt puckered a few air-kisses at her and pulled out a glossy magazine from his book bag. "Missed you, too, hon. And don't call me 'sidekick.'"

Luckily – well, more like 'smartly' – for Rachel, she'd come prepared. She always kept an emergency spy stash in her purse for such occasions. After wrapping her neck and the entire bottom half of her face with a big scarf and covering her eyes with dark sunglasses, she slipped on a pair of gloves and nodded at herself in the rearview mirror.

She turned to Kurt and asked, "How do I look?", voice muffled through the scarf.

Kurt flicked his gaze over to her. "Like a reminder for me to ask myself why I hang out with you."

She slipped down her sunglasses so he could see her rolling her eyes before pushing them back up, but otherwise ignored the dig. "If anyone asks, my name is Barbra Louise Milligan. I'm from New York – no, New _Jersey_; New York is too conspicuous. I'm a poor, elderly, traveling saleswoman who is trying to make ends meet despite an – "

"Go," Kurt groaned. "Just go."

Huffing, Rachel slammed the door behind her and marched up the sidewalk to the store entrance. Before going inside, she took a deep breath – inhaling a mouthful of musty old scarf that made her gag (when had she last _washed_ this thing?) – and coached herself that she could do this.

_Quit wasting time! March on in there, put on a good show, and catch that Fabray! Also maybe buy Daddy a new diamond brooch for Hanukkah_.

Throwing back her shoulders, – but then realizing that was too Rachel-like of her, so she slumped over instead – Rachel entered the store, a cheery bell _jing_ling above her.

The sunglasses of course made the store appear darker than it really was, so she had to squint through the deceptively dim lighting before her eyes adjusted.

She shuffled forward at an exaggeratedly elderly gait, one gnarled hand swinging at her side – _too hunchback _– both hands now hanging loosely – _better_ – looking left to right, to and fro.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I help you with anything?" asked a saleswoman, nametag reading 'Martha.'

Rachel's heart stopped, then resumed in overtime. She gulped; it was now or never. When she spoke, without asking her brain first, her voice took on a thick New York accent. "Hello, I'm Bahbra Louise Milligan from New Yawwk."

Panic gripped her: _No. NO!_ She couldn't have ruined her cover _already_.

Martha smiled and started to reply, but Rachel cut her off. "No! Did I say New York?" A heavy, awkward laugh. "I meant New _Jersey!_" As she talked, her New York accent kept fading and then thickening, over and over again; she found herself growing sweatier and sweatier beneath her heavy coat and scarf.

"You see, Martha – d'ya mind if I cawl you _Marrtha _– I sometimes forget which New I'm from, because there are so many, and you can't blame an old gaaal for her memory goin' the way of the old sch-noodle sometimes, right?" A desperate, weak chuckle; she tugged at her scarf, gasping. "Boy, is it hot in here? I'm sweating. Maybe it's just me…"

Martha gaped at her. "W-would you…like some water?"

"No, thanks; I'm allergic," Rachel blurted, and then almost face-palmed herself. "I mean, yes. Water. The ol' _agua_, as we call it in Brooklyn… Jersey! Brooklyn, Jersey."

"I'll, uh, be over there if you need me," a frightened-looking Martha said before darting off.

Rachel sighed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief and loosened her scarf, just enough to let in a breeze of air.

When she started forward again, she spotted familiar golden-blonde tresses up ahead; her heart leaping with hope, and then again with confirmation, she half-waddled, half-hurried forward to where Quinn stood at the check-out.

_Perfect! Just in time_.

Rachel decided she would walk up and stand right behind Quinn in line, so she could see what she was buying. But then she realized, with coldness zipping through her veins and stilling her pulse, that she was wearing the exact same outfit that she'd worn at school today (well, plus the scarf, gloves, and sunglasses). The same outfit Quinn had seen had seen her in, plus the same hairstyle, height…_everything_.

Quinn wasn't an idiot; she would definitely recognize Rachel. The disguise might fool strangers, but not someone who knew her! How had she not realized this?! She blamed Kurt; this should be _him_, not her, sweating and panicking and trying not to embark in a full-diva meltdown.

Taking a steadying breath, Rachel tiptoed closer to Quinn, but stopped when she reached a large jewelry stand, and hid behind it, just barely peeking over the side. Quinn's back was to her, and she couldn't see what the girl was placing onto the counter to buy, but her expertly-honed, perfect-pitch ears could hear what she said…mostly. The scarf kind of muffled some things.

"…will love this," the woman behind the counter was saying. "But aren't those sort of things usually with a budget?"

"Our teacher said to only spend twenty dollars at the most, but I just couldn't resist," Quinn said, to which Rachel scowled. _Overachiever_, she thought. How dare she try to bribe Finn to love her!

"Well, they are one lucky person to have you!" There was the beeping of the gift being rung up.

"Thanks. I just really hope…" Rachel shifted forward to hear better, but ironically that made her scarf rub against her ears and block out the next few words completely (_ugh_). "…likes it."

"Trust me, with how gorgeous and expensive this is, you'd be a fool not to!"

They shared a laugh; Rachel scowled harder.

"Would you like a gift bag?"

"Yes, please, and a gift receipt, just in case."

A few seconds of silence, and then: "All right! Here you go. Have a Merry Christmas, sweetie."

"Thank you; you too."

Rachel watched as Quinn grabbed the small bag with her present inside and sashayed out of the store. She didn't need binoculars this time to see how big Quinn was smiling and how much audacity she had to be so satisfied with herself.

Growling, Rachel wagged her fist after the blonde. She watched as Quinn left the store, bell _jing_ling. "Why I oughta…"

"Excuse me? Ma'am?"

Rachel stopped shaking her fist and spun to find Martha, who was watching her the way one might with a stray dog on the street…a stray dog that was foaming at the mouth and coming toward you.

"Er, _yes?_" Rachel blinked sweetly (even though the woman couldn't see it behind the dark glasses) and used her kindest little-old-lady voice.

"We have a strict store policy against lurking," Martha said. "Please, either browse, buy, or leave, but don't hide behind the jewelry and quietly antagonize other customers. It's bad for business."

Blushing, Rachel mustered up a rueful smile. Could this _get_ any more embarrassing? "I'm sorry."

The woman squinted at her. "What happened to your accent? And your posture…you seem younger now…"

Apparently so. "It's a gland disorder," Rachel said, flipping the end of her scarf further over her shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you mocking me for it." Marching away from Martha, Rachel mentally high-fived herself. Defense is always the best offense.

Taking off her scarf, sunglasses, and gloves, and stashing them all in her purse, Rachel could finally breathe deeply again, free from the too-hot confinements. Smiling as she inhaled and exhaled the sweet, free air, she walked over to the check-out.

"Hello," she chirped with her most charming grin.

The older woman behind the counter – whose nametag read Liz – looked over at her with a grandmotherly smile. "Hello, dear. What can I help you with?"

Rachel fluffed the ends of her hair and batted her eyelashes again, cranking up the allure. "Actually, I want to inquire what the blonde girl who checked out before me bought."

Liz frowned. "I'm sorry, but we have a confidentiality policy with all of our customers."

_Jeez, this store has a lot of rules,_ Rachel thought, but rather than be deterred, felt her determination flare stronger. "That is perfectly understandable, of course, but you see, it is of _high _importance that I find out what she bought."

Liz cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because, you see…" Rachel's mind floundered for an excuse before blurting out, "She's my twin."

Now Liz's other eyebrow jumped up to match the first. "You're _twin_."

"We're…fraternal, of course," Rachel said with a weak smile. _Ugh_, she could have face-palmed herself again, but she knew she had to roll with it. There was no going back now.

Dropping her smile in place of a tragic expression and using what she hoped was a heart-wrenching voice of despair, eyes widening with a plea, she said, "Yes. My…twin," she looked off to the side in agony at the word, hand pressing to her heart as she released a pained whimper.

"You see," she said, blinking big, sad eyes back to Liz's blank expression. "We were separated at birth, but growing up, I always knew a part of me was missing. At night, I would stare out my window at the moon and sing duets by myself, only able to do one part, my heart breaking that there wasn't somebody there beside me to harmonize and complete the other half. A-and…" She broke off to the side again, fluttering her face with one hand as she blinked to moisten her eyes and let her lower lip tremble. "When daddy lost his job this past year, and with mama away at the coal mine… My long-lost sister is all I have left. Please, you _have_ to help me."

Behind her, Rachel heard a sob; she turned to find Martha weeping into a handkerchief and nodding at Rachel with tears running down her face. "It explains so much," she said, reaching out a hand to grasp Rachel's shoulder. "It explains _so_ much." She honked her nose into the handkerchief before offering it to Rachel, who smiled with half-disgust and half-gratefulness and rapidly shook her head no-thank-you.

"Okay," Liz said slowly. "But if all you want is to be reunited with your…_twin_, then why are you standing here telling me all this instead of going after her? Why not tell her your story yourself, and get reunited _that_ way? Why do you care what she bought?"

_Drat! _Rachel thought. _Foiled again_. Sighing, she dropped the act and returned to normal. "Okay, fine. I made it up."

Behind her, Martha released a scandalized gasp. "Y-you _monster!_" she cried before running off.

Liz fixed Rachel with a hard look, so Rachel gave a feeble smile. "Um…you wouldn't happen to have any diamond brooches, would you?"

* * *

She hadn't been able to get a brooch for Daddy.

She _had_, however, gotten her picture taken and mounted on the bulletin board labeled 'BANNED FROM THIS ESTABLISHMENT!'

It turned out that Gold and Silver was a family-run business, and Martha was Liz's beloved daughter. Liz had not been too pleased, to put it mildly, that Rachel's lie about being Quinn's long-lost twin had made Martha break down into hysterics in the back room of the store. It turned out Martha and her husband were going through some rough times, and had just gotten through juggling with getting a divorce, and she was emotionally fragile.

The worst part was, when Liz had taken the Polaroid picture of Rachel, she hadn't even gotten her left side. And Rachel had blinked at the last second, so her eyes were closed, and she had been about to sneeze, so her nose was all scrunched up and smile was weird. Just terrific.

Bad photography aside, Rachel didn't know which was more upsetting: failing at her mission to find out what Quinn had bought, or confirming to herself that she was not cut out for improv. There went her aspirations to join an improvisational comedy troupe whilst on the rise to Broadway.

She was in a truly sour mood by the time she'd trudged out of the store ("and don't come back!" Liz had yelled after her, to which Rachel had spun around and shouted back, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'the customer's always right'?!").

Shuffling over to Kurt's car, her arms folded over her chest and her face wearing a deep, spectacular frown, she opened up the front passenger door and slipped inside, slamming it behind her with extra-gusto.

"Back so soon?" Kurt asked without looking up from the magazine he held, the same glossy fashion one from earlier. "You seem angry."

"As a matter of fact, _Kurt_," Rachel spat, "I am _furious!_ Not only did I fail at foiling Fabray-"

"Try saying that five times fast."

"-but I've also been banned for life from one of the only jewelry stores in Lima! It should have been _you_, and – " She stopped, her heart stalling as her nose picked up on something. "What's that smell?" She sniffed, once short and fast, and then again, long and deep, like a bloodhound.

"It's…green-apple shampoo…" Eyes squinting, she sniffed again, nostrils flaring ridiculously wide. "Paired with...lavender-honey lotion…and below it all, the scent of…" Her eyes widened, hairs stiffened at the back of her neck. "…_bacon_."

A little giggle came from the backseat, and with it Rachel's entire body froze. _It can't be… But it _must _be…_ "No," the word tore quiet but fierce from her throat, a whisper of horror.

Rachel whipped around, sitting up on her knees toward the backseat, and found none other than…

"_Fabray!_"

"Hello, Rachel," Quinn said, smirking audaciously wide, stupidly bright green with stupid gold flecks eyes positively shining.

Rachel whipped wide, accusatory eyes from Kurt to Quinn and back again, her mouth hanging open. "You- but she- but I- _Kuurrrttt!_" She smacked the dashboard with a righteous hand to catch his attention.

"Oh," Kurt turned an utterly bored expression her way. "Did I forget to mention that Quinn was in the backseat? How silly of me." He went back to reading his magazine.

"How could you?!" Rachel seethed. "You are the _worst_ sidekick_ ever!_"

"Don't call me '_siiidekiick_,'" Kurt sang, turning the page and then humming to himself.

"It's not Kurt's fault," Quinn said, making Rachel's glare swing to her instead. "When I walked out of the store, I saw his car and went over to say hi. You can imagine my surprise, of course, when I found _your_ backpack in the front seat. He didn't confirm or deny anything, because I didn't have to ask."

"The backpack," Rachel whispered to herself. "Of course!" The one loose thread left untied; Rachel's downfall. Every hero had one.

"Yes," said Quinn, sounding amused enough to make Rachel's scowl return. "And a pair of glitzy pink binoculars."

"You're good, Fabray," Rachel said. "I'll give you that."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it was _such_ a mystery, but I solved it."

"No need to brag," Rachel snapped. Then, taking on an air of casualness, "So… What's in the bag?"

"I'll tell you that when you explain why you were banned for life from the jewelry store," Quinn said with a snicker.

Kurt snickered, too. "I second that."

Rachel bristled. "Don't turn this around on me. I _know_ you have your Secret Santa gift in there. So, what did you buy Finn, huh? A heart-shaped locket in which you'll put a picture of you two in happier times? A charm bracelet that spells out 'Quinn Hudson'? A _wedding_ ring, perhaps, _hmmm?_"

Quinn pretended to think it over as she popped up a finger each time she counted it off, "Maybe; it's likely; and _wow_, how did you guess? Would you like to be my maid of honor, Rachel?"

Rachel glared at Quinn's faux-innocent expression. "You should be so lucky."

Quinn sighed and then shot forward, her hands grabbing the sides of Rachel's seat, her face now _inches_ from Rachel's. Rachel's entire body froze at the closeness, her eyes drowning in intense hazel-green, feeling puffs of Quinn's sweet, warm breath brush her face as she spoke to her.

"Listen up, Nancy Jew," she said. "As fun as it is for me to watch you make a fool of yourself, this whole thing can only go so far before it really starts trying my patience. Give it a rest, okay? You are _not_ going to win here. You will find out who I have for Secret Santa and what I got them on Friday at Glee, just like everybody else, _got it?_"

Rachel gulped, her heart racing and a weird feeling spreading further downward from deep in her stomach. The air between her and Quinn was charged with electricity, and she found herself subconsciously, just barely, moving even closer, blood tingling in her veins.

Quinn's tongue peeked out to run over her lips before disappearing back inside, and Rachel found her mouth dropping to it, transfixed, watching its progress, and now that feeling in her stomach was hotter and _much_ farther south.

Heart in her throat, head spinning, Rachel pulled backward to take a shaky breath and collect herself. Her pulse was everywhere, but it surged most dominantly right between her legs, which was as confusing and frustrating as it was delicious.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," she finally said to Quinn, careful to keep her tone neutral.

Quinn grabbed her purse – and, inside of it Rachel saw, the bag from the jewelry store (_so close, and yet so far away_) – and opened the door closest to her, scooting out. "'Bye, Kurt; it was nice catching up with you."

"'Bye, Quinn!" Kurt waved over his shoulder but didn't bother looking up from his magazine. "Yeah, same."

"I'll see you at school, Rachel," Quinn said.

"No, I'll see _you_ at school," Rachel said, to which Quinn huffed a "whatever" and closed the door behind her.

Watching as Quinn walked away (and having to force herself not to stare at the hypnotic swing of that chiseled ass), Rachel said, "I hope you're happy, Kurt! Now everything is ruined!"

Finally closing his magazine and putting it back into his bag, Kurt twisted the key in the ignition to kick the engine to life. "For your information, she told me she doesn't have Finn for Secret Santa. And why would she lie to me about it? I don't even go to your school anymore."

"Maybe because she knows you would tell _me_ her answer, so of course she would lie about it!"

Kurt shrugged. "Whatever. It really doesn't matter anyway."

"Doesn't matter? _D-doesn't matter?_" Rachel sputtered. "What happened to you while you were away?!"

"Maybe I grew some sanity?" Kurt suggested. "I could understand why the concept would be foreign to you. Now, buckle up."

"Fine, but you're out of your mind if you think I'm still buying you a latte, let alone two."

"And no biscotti either?"

"Nope!" Rachel clicked the belt into the buckle rather violently.

"Okay. But next time you call asking for my help, remind me to say 'hell no.'"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that; you are officially no longer my sidekick."

Kurt rolled his eyes and checked over his shoulder. "Never was in the first place," he muttered, reversing from his parking spot.

Rachel stared straight ahead, folded her arms, and sulked. Nothing was going to plan with proving Quinn wrong. It was like her blossoming career as a detective was sponsored by Murphy's Law.

But she still had two days left until the Christmas party at Glee.

Two days left to turn her luck around and rise victorious.

And this time, she wouldn't let anything stop her.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Thursday before first period, Rachel found Quinn at Quinn's locker, grabbing some textbooks.

She could walk right by Quinn, or she could march on over there and confront her.

Rachel didn't usually avoid conflict (in fact, she kind of lived for it), but she thought back to the disastrous fate of her mission yesterday. Her pride had wounded past bruising, and it hurt to poke at it, but she couldn't help it.

She got hot flashes whenever she remembered the hellish excursion of being wrapped up in her spy suit (aka the demon scarf), like some sort of failure-based menopause. Martha's sobs and the _flash_ of Liz's camera (sealing her doom into The Worst Picture Ever Taken) shivered through her mind in a crescendo of a job well-_bad_.

It seemed that no matter how hard she tried to knock down Quinn's lie and reveal the truth beneath, the façade kept swinging back up like one of those childhood Weeble dolls (if Weebles had spankable asses; perfect blonde hair; and a penchant for making Rachel furious. So, one out of three.).

Maybe the best way to have Quinn come clean was to play nice with her. Butter her over (with vegan margarine, of course). Fluff her with compliments and offers of friendship, make Fabray divulge her secret to Rachel on her own terms.

Maybe, Rachel thought, the way to get Quinn to tell her if she really had Finn or not for Secret Santa, was to simply ask the blonde nicely if she did.

It was just crazy enough to work!

So, ultimately, the urge the pick at her festering, metaphorical scabs and play nice won out over Rachel's desire to ignore Quinn.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders, she walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

Quinn turned; when she saw Rachel, a small but sincere smile broke out on her face. Rachel ignored the way her stomach swooped.

She lifted her chin and said in her most professional voice, "I would like to talk to you, if you have time."

"Sure," said Quinn, in a surprisingly kind tone, as she gripped her supplies against her chest with one arm and used her other hand to lock up her locker. "What's up?"

"What is _up_ is that we have had a lot of bad blood boiling between us lately, as I'm sure you've noticed," Rachel began.

"Oh yeah, I've _definitely_ noticed," Quinn said with a humorless chuckle. "And I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."

Rachel's eyebrows and lips frowned together. "Mysenses."

"Yeah. You're showing great maturity right now." Quinn smiled in a way that almost made Rachel think she was _proud_ of her. This was not going to plan (_that_ was certainly the theme of this week).

"_Maturity_," Rachel repeated in a dry tone. "Right."

"Anyway, you don't have to say anything," Quinn said. "It's okay; I accept."

Confusion flickered all over Rachel's face, puckering her brow again. "Accept what?"

"Your apology."

Rachel's nostrils flared and mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Quinn said, stepping to the side to get around Rachel. "Seriously, it's already forgotten."

Rachel matched her side-step, glaring up at her. "_What_ is forgotten here, Fabray?"

"That," Quinn said, crossing her arms, and though her stance and tone were guarded, Rachel saw hurt clouding her eyes. "The hostile tone you just used, and the way you keep calling me by my last name as if I'm some cheesy villain in a bad, teen 80's movie."

Rachel bit down on her lower lip, wondering how to proceed. _That_ was about the last thing she had expected Quinn to say…and also one of the most hypocritical.

"I honestly don't know why it surprises you," Rachel said, choosing her words carefully and keeping her tone neutral. But the more she spoke, the more her true, wounded feelings rose to the surface. "Seeing as how you've made a career out of tormenting me for two and a half years now, I would think it's about time I fight back, don't you?" Without waiting for a response, she powered on.

"Maybe I have always been nicer to you than you deserve, Fa – _Quinn_, but that changed when you acted like you wanted to be my friend and write a song with me for Sectionals, but then you decided to verbally-attack me in the auditorium and make me cry, yet again, instead." Rachel's cheeks boiled hot and red by this point; Quinn's mouth pressed into a tight, grim line.

"_And_ _then_," Rachel jabbed a finger at her, as if to poke through the infuriatingly indifferent mask Quinn wore, "to add insult to injury, you got back together with my ex-boyfriend, the very one whom you told me I wasn't good enough for. So, yes, maybe I _am_ being rather hostile to you, but to that I say, it's about damn time!"

Breathing heavily, Rachel ran her hands over her skirt to wipe off sweat and ward away a tremble.

"Why does everything have to be about Finn?" Quinn demanded, somewhere between frustration and misery.

"It's not about Finn!" Rachel had to stop herself from shrieking it. "It's about you thinking I'm not good enough!"

Quinn just stared at her for a heart-pounding moment before shaking her head, her face changing into such an intense kind of melancholy that Rachel quit breathing altogether for a scary moment.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

Rachel licked her lips; her voice came out quiet. "Get what?"

"When I told you all that stuff about how you aren't meant to be with Finn, did you ever stop to think that I wasn't saying you're not good enough for him, but that…" The way Quinn gazed into her eyes, those gold-freckled green ones so open and tender, and her words spoken so soft and fragile… Rachel felt her heart _thud…thud…thud_ in her chest.

Rachel swallowed hard. "But what?"

"That Finn's not good enough for you."

The words crashed over her with their meaning.

"That whole speech was me telling you that you're too good for Lima, Rachel," the way Quinn's voice broke with emotion on her name made Rachel feel strangely lightheaded.

Quinn's words dripped a bitter, dark humor next. "But you see things how you want to see them, and how you want to see them is me as the villain in the epic storybook romance of you and Finn Hudson."

Rachel could only stare at her as she walked off, feeling about a dozen different shades of confused. A part of her wanted to go after Quinn, to grab her wrist and tug her to a stop and make her explain what she meant by all of this. But another part of Rachel, more dominant, it seemed, was too afraid to.

So, she settled for just standing there, watching as Quinn got smaller in the distance, and feeling as her heart swelled larger in her chest, caught in shivers somewhere between hot and cold.

* * *

Lunch was drawing to a close when Rachel found the next note in her locker.

**I spy, with my little eye,**

**A girl who thinks she's stealthier than I.**

**But you go so slow that by the time you find me out**

**We'll both be gray and old, I don't doubt.**

**Although it's past time you let your cards fold,**

**I still think you're worth more than all the silver and gold.**

**Yours Truly,**

**SS**

Rachel had to read it a few times before the words sank in past her distracted brain; her hands shook as she gripped the paper.

All day, she kept thinking back to her and Quinn's conversation before school. To the pain that had cracked through Quinn's usual mask of superior indifference. To the way Quinn's voice had broke, clean through, with emotion on Rachel's name. To the way Quinn looked at her, those big and vulnerable eyes.

Secret Santa didn't seem so important anymore when she had this _new_ mystery. The mystery of why Quinn was suddenly showing this human side of her.

Rachel had to admit that this new SS note was cute, and even rhymed (Kurt would be delighted), but it didn't make her feel warm and fuzzy like the others had; she was just too preoccupied. Besides, whoever had written these letters seemed to have a crush on her, and she was already dreading having to turn down whomever it was. She knew from _plenty_ of experience how much it hurt to be rejected by the one you like.

Sure, maybe she could go on a pity date with him, but she just didn't have feelings for Sam or Artie or any of the other Glee boys. Well, besides Finn…right? And besides, she already knew that there was no way this could be Finn.

As if she'd conjured him up by her thoughts, a familiar voice said from behind her, "Hey, Rach."

Startled, she whirled to face him, clutching her note against her now-hammering heart. "Finn!" His name came out saturated with surprise.

He was handsome as ever, dressed in a red plaid long-sleeved shirt that looked sinfully soft and paired with jeans that didn't have little holes ripping at the bottom for once. But seeing him didn't make her stomach grow fuzzy like it used to. Seeing him here before her, smiling his half-smile in a reminder of his existence, was a physical shock to her system.

Funny, but she had spent so much time and energy this week focusing on making sure Quinn wouldn't win Finn back, that she hadn't actually thought about the boy in question. Like, at all.

"Hi," she said, exhaling rather shakily and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Are you okay?" his smile fell as concern filled his eyes. "You look freaked out."

"No, no, I'm fine." She waved a hand through the air. "How are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." She grinned wide enough to show her back molars but didn't feel it spark in her eyes.

"I'm good, thanks. But I need your help with something."

"Oh, okay," she nodded. "It's bunny ear, bunny ear, loop under, pull, remember?"

Finn blushed. "No! I don't need help tying my shoes."

Rachel looked down at his sneakers and took in the Velcro straps. "…Right."

"It's about Secret Santa," he sighed. "Promise not to tell?"

"Of course! I'm insulted you even have to ask." _Wait until I tell Kurt!_

Suddenly, she was _sure_ that Finn had found out that Quinn was his Secret Santa. He was probably asking for her advice on how to let her down easy! For some reason, the idea made Rachel feel more nervous than triumphant. Not picking up on the memo, her facial muscles started to reflect victory.

But the smirk curling at Rachel's lips flattened as quickly as it had started when Finn said, "Okay, cool; I got Mercedes."

Rachel's hopes popped like a pin to a balloon. "Mercedes? Oh."

"Yeah. And…like…I don't know what to get her. Would you please help me?"

Rachel shrugged. "Well, you can't go wrong with tater tots."

"I know, but I asked the lunchladies, and they said they won't get a new order of them until after Christmas."

"Have you tried Jacob? I'm sure he knows a guy."

"Yeah, I have, but he said he'd have to go through the black market to work with this shady dealer named Napoleon who is, like, _crazy_-obsessed with tots, and rumor has it he sics his llama on you if you don't pay up in time."

Rachel's brow furrowed and mouth twisted into a disbelieving pucker. "Pay up in time? How expensive are a bunch of _tater tots?_"

"He has to ship them from Idaho, so…" Finn sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Actually, I was thinking you could help me a different idea for my gift."

"How so?"

"Well, I thought that I could make, like, a bunch of coupons that all say, 'Good for one solo in Glee Club,' and Mercedes could use them to go instead of someone else when they have a solo. 'Cause she never really gets to sing, and, like, I know she loves it. I asked everyone else, and they're cool with it, but I kinda knew you'd be the hardest sell, and also you're kind of the only one who actually _gets_ solos, so… Would you let me do it?"

Rachel gaped at Finn's nervous expression the entire time he talked, with the kind of outraged horror of one who had just been asked to hand over their firstborn child.

"My talent cannot be _bought_, Finn!" she said. What, did he think her vocal chords were some sort of common _prostitute?_ That he could just buy them like that for somebody else to use theirs instead? No, sirree, Rachel Berry's vocal chords were the Julia-damn-_Roberts_ of prostitutes, thank you very much, the kind that had a heart of gold and got picked up by a handsome older gentleman and then at the end went to Disneyland.

"Oh, come on, Rachel! It's for Christmas! And I don't have that much money to buy her something."

"_Fine,_" she spat the word and scowled. "I will agree to it, but I will not be happy with it! Also, just so you're not a cheapskate, buy her something small, too. Like a gift card to a store with those frozen coffee drinks she likes so much."

"Okay, sounds good. Thanks, Rachel! You're the best." Finn smiled with so much relief and sincerity that Rachel felt her irritation melting away until she was smiling back.

"So, who did _you_ get?" he asked.

"Quinn."

Finn's eyes widened. "_What?_ No way! I'll trade you!"

"These are real, living _people_, Finn, not trading cards you can compare and swap."

"I'll throw in the special edition booster pack," he said, and it took her a second to realize he was joking.

Rachel laughed a little, and he beamed, looking so much like a proud little boy that affection swelled in her chest.

"Why do you want to have Quinn, anyway?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be awkward since you broke up with her?"

Finn looked away, a blush spilling into his cheeks, and Rachel felt an odd, dulled sense of panic closing in on her. "_Finn?_"

"Well…" he scratched behind his reddened ear before turning guilty, embarrassed eyes to her suspicious ones. "I might have kind of, sort of, like…_lied_ to you about that…"

Rachel's heart stopped. "Excuse me?"

"Well, _she_ sort of broke up with _me_."

Rachel just stared at him, feeling her hands and feet turn icy.

"That's why it would be super-awesome of you to let me have her for Secret Santa, 'cause then I could buy her a super-awesome gift that will remind her why she used to love me," Finn started talking fast, face brightening as hands gestured. "I was actually thinking about buying two tickets for _Bacon on Ice!_ and asking if she wanted to go with m – "

"You're joking," Rachel interrupted, shaking her head. "You _have got_ to be joking."

"No, I'm not; seriously! I know it sounds weird, but it's actually really well-reviewed and some critics are calling it 'the crispiest show on Earth' and – "

"No!" Rachel stomped her foot. "I'm not talking about the stupid bacon musical!"

"Figure-skating show," Finn corrected, but in a mutter, because Rachel was wearing her scary 'I would jump on top of you and strangle you if attempted murder wouldn't look so bad on my Broadway résumé' look. One he was all too familiar with.

"You mean to tell me that you led me to believe that you dumped Quinn, when all along, _she_ was the one to dump _you_ to the curb?"

"Well, you don't have to put it like _that_," Finn frowned. "But…yeah."

Rachel fell back against her locker, feeling faint, mind whirling. This didn't make sense! Had she been following a classic red herring throughout her entire detecting and had missed out on what the true suspect and crime was right below her nose? But what _was _the truth? The more she found out, the less she understood things.

Licking her lips, she stared up at Finn, who looked at her with a mixture of confusion, concern, and fear.

"Why?" she said.

"Why did she break up with me, or why did I lie?"

She'd been going for the first one, but said, "Both."

"Well, she said she 'didn't want to keep pretending anymore,' whatever that even _means_, you know? And I lied to you about it because I was embarrassed." He tugged at his collar. "And I thought maybe you would get all gloat-y if you found out the girl I dated after we broke up turned out to not really like me."

"Oh, Finn, I wouldn't get all 'gloat-y,'" Rachel said, "Mostly because that's not a word, but also because I would have been thrilled that you were single again and not cared _how_ you got there."

"Oh," Finn said. "Okay. Well…now you know."

"So, do you still love her?" Rachel felt tired and cold and sick to her stomach. For so many reasons, most of them indefinable.

"I don't know… I mean, I thought I did. And I do want to date her again, definitely. But even though it's embarrassing, I'm not as _bummed_ as I thought I would be, you know?" He leaned back against the lockers with her, reflecting her same thoughtful stance.

"Would you ever get back together with me?" Rachel asked, biting down on her lower lip.

"Probably not," Finn said with an apologetic smile.

Rachel didn't feel as disappointed to hear that as she thought she would. She figured it was because she and Finn were so on-again, off-again, and had so many times in the past said they wouldn't get back together but then would just a week or two later, that hearing him say 'no' to being a couple had lost any real impact over her. Like, the Boy Who Cried Break-Up.

Finn reached out a gentle thumb to smooth over Rachel's side-bangs. Her eyes closed at the touch, just for a moment. "We were pretty toxic as a couple, you know? It's like we brought out the worst in each other."

Rachel smiled sadly. "Yeah, it felt like we were always fighting."

"And you always had to be right."

"Not had to be, but _was_ right."

Finn rolled his eyes but it lacked actual annoyance. "But you and me…we're friends, aren't we?"

Rachel's smile turned sweet. "Yes, of course. But not good enough friends for you to wax poetic about your other ex."

"Understandable." Finn smiled back, gently, most of it in his eyes than on his mouth.

The bell rang.

"Well, I'd better get to class," Rachel said. She started to turn to walk away but then stopped and faced him again. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know who got me for Secret Santa, would you?"

"Sorry; no clue."

She nodded. "It's okay; I figured. All right, see ya, Finn."

"See ya, Rachel."

As she headed off to class, she found herself more confused than she had been all week, maybe even in all of her _life_. It felt like the puzzle she'd been putting together had turned out to be making a different picture altogether, one with new pieces she hadn't known existed until now, while some of the ones she thought _had,_ no longer fit.

At least tomorrow was the Glee Club's Christmas party.

Tomorrow, all of the mysteries would be solved.

As far as she was concerned, it couldn't get here fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow, thank you all SOOOOO much for the awesome feedback and support! xD I'm thrilled you guys like this so much. :D There will be one more chapter after this one, and it should be up tomorrow.

As always, I hope you enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think! :) Thanks again. XOXOXO! *Hugs!*

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

Rachel had been chewing on her lower lip so often today that she felt a permanent groove developing in the shape of her top teeth.

She forced herself to stop by applying a thick coat of lip-gloss in the bathroom before last period, her hand slightly trembling as she did so.

Thinking about today after school, her stomach kept tightening into knots that were equally as nervous as they were excited.

And it was all because of the note she'd found in her locker when she'd gotten to school that morning.

**I hope you won't be disappointed when you find out who I am**

**I've dreamed of this moment since my eyes first met you**

**But if you don't like me in that way, I'll understand**

**Though it would make my Christmas be blue.**

**Everything about you is perfect to me**

**But I might be too inclined**

**For there is no other girl, you see**

**Who makes me think, 'Please, be mine.'**

**Yours Truly,**

**Secret Santa**

Rachel had read it so many times, she had it memorized. It kept looping through her mind in a rap tune. She imagined a faceless figure wearing a red velvet hoodie with Santa-esque white-fur trim, snapping their fingers from side-to-side as they walked forward like a gang in a Broadway musical, rapping the poem for her and doing some beat-boxing and scatting, throwing in some fierce "_ho, ho, ho_"s at the end. (She wondered if she could get her Secret Santa to record it for her as her new ringtone.)

Capping her tube of shimmery nude lip-gloss, Rachel rubbed her mouth around to evenly distribute it and then licked her teeth to rid any excess.

A smile, tentative and hopeful and _happy_, pulled up her cheeks, sparking in her eyes. She always knew she would have her own fan club one day, rife with secret admirers and romantic poems, but she figured that wouldn't happen until _after_ she starred on Broadway.

Her palms were getting clammy, so she wiped them off on her miniskirt, which was white with red pinstripes all over it, like a candy cane. Paired with creamy white tights, black lace-up shoes, and a white sweater that had a picture of a golden retriever puppy on it wearing a red Santa hat and the words 'SANTA PAWS' underneath it in big green letters, she was certainly dressed the festive part. She'd even swapped out her gold star earrings for a pair of tiny green Christmas trees.

Her hair curled into loose waves with a red headband on top, and her bangs swept to the side, she thought she looked extra-pretty, if she did say so herself. Thinking about her Secret Santa seeing her and agreeing that she looked adorable made Rachel's stomach knot up again, but with more excitement than nerves this time.

There was another reason her stomach kept writhing, though, and it had nothing to do with admirers.

Quinn.

After their weirdly intense conversation yesterday, Rachel was almost _scared_ to see the girl again. And it's not like she could ignore her during the party; Rachel _was_ her Secret Santa. And about that… Rachel had been so distracted all week hunting Quinn down that she hadn't really fulfilled her own Santa duties.

She had left the two notes on Monday and Tuesday, but hadn't on Wednesday because she'd been so distracted with planning the after-Glee stakeout. And yesterday, she hadn't left anything in Quinn's locker because she didn't know what to say. Something inanely cheerful felt so hollow and forced after their argument.

Today before lunch, she left a note in Quinn's locker reading, _Sorry I've been slacking with spreading holiday cheer. I have been busy up at the North Pole; the elves are unionizing and threatening to overthrow me from my patriarchal rein that I have ingrained in Western society. I have been busy dealing with the aftermath of a personality crisis: What is Christmas without me, but what am I without Christmas? Also, Rudolph is developing quite the ego and doesn't want to lead the sleigh unless I up his paycheck. So, I hope you understand why I have been such a lousy Santa to you. I shall make it up to you. Ho, ho, ho: Secret Santa_.

Rachel had tried to make it charming and witty, her verbosity compensating for the fact that she thought she _was_ being a bad Secret Santa. She was supposed to be the best at everything! But she actually felt kind of _sorry_ for Quinn that she didn't get somebody else who would have made the week more fun for her.

The bell rang; Rachel's stomach jumped and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

One more class of the day, and then it was showtime.

She opened her eyes, looked at her reflection in the mirror, and nodded.

"Don't be nervous, Rachel Berry. You are such a star that you deserve to be sitting on top of people's Christmas trees. It will all be okay."

She just hoped that Quinn wouldn't throw lumps of coal at her when she found out that she was her Secret Santa. Char stains don't go well with _any_ outfit.

* * *

Walking into the choir room after school, Rachel held Quinn's gift against her hammering heart and swept her gaze around the few people already there to see if anyone was staring at her with a dopey lovesick grin or making the sign of a heart with their hands and blowing kisses at her.

No one paid her any attention.

She released a shaky breath and sat down in the front seat, crossing her legs and tapping her foot that remained on the floor.

Twinkling red, green, and white lights draped all across the ceiling. A giant, fully-decorated tree stood near the center of the room, with a pile of fake-snow all around it. Plastic figurines of reindeer, Santa Claus, and snowmen lined atop the polished piano. Though she didn't celebrate Christmas, Rachel couldn't help but to feel sentimental toward the holiday cheer spread out before her. It was the last day before two weeks of winter break, and she couldn't wait until vacation.

Watching as more and more Glee Clubbers trickled in, each holding a present, easy chatter and excited giggles filling the air, she found herself dreading to see Quinn walk through those doors…and desiring it just as badly.

She was so busy staring at the doors, waiting for Quinn, that when a tap came to her shoulder, she gave a little jump, heart hitching a ride to her throat, and turned to find Sam sitting in the chair behind her, grinning.

Rachel's eyes widened. "S-Sam!" So it _was_ him. Her stomach and hands felt cold, guilty, at his sweet, puppy-dog grin.

"Hey, Rachel. I've been trying to find you all day to ask if – "

_Oh sweet merciful Barbra!_ Rachel, clean interrupting him, her voice shrill, said, "Wait, no! I can't. I'm sorry; you're handsome in that California surfer boy way, and your lips are certainly endearing and ChapStick-sponsorship-worthy, but… I just don't like you as more than a friend." She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, blinking at him with ample apology in her eyes.

Oh God, she had _ruined_ him! He would never get over her, would go home and weep in front of a shrine of pictures of her, spending the rest of his days eating ice-cream and crying and end up buying five cats and five dogs and naming all of them a variant of her name. She could just picture little Rachie dog, barking at the moon for the co-owner that could never be…

But Sam, instead of his face crumbling into misery, was staring at her like she had grown an extra (equally as glorious) head. "Um… Right. Actually, I was going to ask if you would sign the card I bought for Mr. Schuester. Everyone else already has, but… if it's going to be a problem for you…"

Rachel blushed from head-to-toe but forced herself not to break eye-contact and to release a charming, oopsy giggle instead. "Oh, of course. S-sure; I'd love to."

Sam handed her the card and a Sharpie, and Rachel scrawled a sweet message and her signature on a blank space before handing both back to him.

"Thanks!" he smiled at her, small but genuine. "And, uh, thanks for letting me down easy. Even though I don't like you as more than a friend, either."

"So, you're not my Secret Santa?"

"No, sorry." He looked left to right and then leaned closer with a whisper, "I got Lauren."

"Ah, okay." Rachel nodded, turned back around in her seat, and then bonked herself on the forehead, muttering, "_Stupid, stupid, stupid_…" She shook out her hair, sniffed, and gathered her composure. Not even a second later, Quinn walked into the room.

Rachel's breath hitched.

Dressed in a tight, knee-length dark green dress with a red-trimmed collar, sleeves, and hemline; a pair of gold flats; a gold cross necklace hanging at her breasts; and her hair fashioned into the cutest set of pigtails Rachel had ever seen, complete with red ribbon bows tied on them, rosy cheeks, and red lips – she was like an elf's hotter, more fashionable older sister.

And when Quinn saw Rachel staring at her, the blonde _lit up_ with a smile brighter than all the Christmas lights in the world put together.

Rachel felt her heart zip right through toes.

Quinn, carrying a big silver-wrapped present with a gold bow on top, started to walk over to Rachel, but at that moment, Mr. Schuester arrived and clapped his hands to capture everyone's attention.

Rachel watched as Quinn walked up the risers at the other side, all the way to the top, and felt her breath swing back into her full-force as she made herself stare ahead at Mr. Schuester.

"All right, guys! Let's warm up with a few carols, and then let the gift exchange begin!"

They sang rousing melodies of the most predictable – but jolliest – of Christmas tunes, and then Mr. Schuester went to talk to Brad as the kids stood up and mingled, some getting right to exchanging presents and some getting cookies or punch first.

Rachel walked to the middle of the room and turned toward the risers, waiting for Quinn to descend them. She watched her walk down, cradling the present in her arms, her eyes looking up to latch onto Rachel's as she broke out into that jubilant grin that made Rachel's knees go weak.

When Quinn reached her, she stopped with one or two feet between them, and for some reason, her smile turned shy, her big, tender eyes glowing with it. "Hey. You look cute."

"Hello," Rachel said, smiling against the nerves surging through her. "Thanks; so do you. I like the pigtails."

Was Quinn actually _blushing?_

Rachel added, "I guess you found me out, huh?"

Quinn giggled. "You mean that you're my Secret Santa? Yeah; your writing style is…_unique_. I can't imagine anyone else in here using the phrase 'patriarchal rein ingrained in Western society.' Also from Tuesday, when you talked about 'verbal banter' or whatever – it was a dead giveaway."

Rachel nodded. "Well, then I guess you would like to open my present before you go and give yours to Finn?"

Quinn rolled her eyes but smiled anew. "_Rachel_," it was a gentle scold, the familiar kind of teasing of old friends, affectionate enough to make Rachel blush. "I told you! I am _not_ Finn's Secret Santa."

As if on cue, Finn's voice exclaimed a few yards over, "Wow, Brittany! A football signed by my favorite player?! How did you even know? Thank you!"

Rachel and Quinn watched as Finn hugged a grinning Brittany, who said, "I told you; I have connections. Being Santa's favorite works wonders with gift-buying."

"Brittany," Rachel gasped to herself. "All along… It was _her?!_" She looked back to Quinn, who shrugged.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"But… But… All the signs pointed to you!"

"No, you just wanted them to, for whatever reason."

Rachel's posture deflated for a moment. "Wow. I really am the worst detective ever, huh?"

"Maybe not the _worst_, but definitely top five," Quinn joked, earning a reluctant chuckle from Rachel.

"Okay, so, do you want to open your present now?" Rachel lifted the rectangle-shape in her hands, which was covered in red wrapping paper with cartoon ornaments and little trees all over it.

Quinn bit down on her lower lip and looked up from beneath her lashes in an unfairly gorgeous manner. She looked so _shy_; the always confident and put-together girl was downright _bashful_, which confused Rachel as much as it endeared her. "Well," she said, "How about you open yours first?"

Rachel gaped at her for several seconds, eyebrows jumping together, as she processed this. The words roared over her, again and again, in a wave of slow realization, her mouth falling open. "Wait… _What?!_"

"I'm your Secret Santa."

"B-but… How? I…" Rachel's eyes bugged.

A highlight reel looped through her mind: Quinn, glancing over at the front row after drawing for Secret Santa, that pleasantly surprised little smile and the weirdly shy happiness in her eyes – the front row which held Finn _and Rachel_.

Quinn, at school early Tuesday morning, strutting through the hallway that held Finn _and_ _Rachel's _locker.

Quinn, writing the love letters to Rachel… _Quinn,_ writing the _love letters_ to _Rachel!_

"But, but… But!" She looked away in exasperation before swinging her gaze back to Quinn. "_But!_"

"_But_," Quinn prompted, smiling to herself with amusement at Rachel's reaction…and more of that shyness and nerves.

Rachel shook her head. "I don't understand."

"For the love of bacon!" Quinn laughed, shaking her head right back at her and widening those eyes, even more vividly green today against the color of her dress. "I was so obvious that I thought for _sure_ you would have figured it out. One note talked about honey and nectar and said 'be mine' or something _right after_ you got attacked by a bee! Another note talked about spying and said 'silver and gold,' the day after I caught you snooping on me at Gold and Silver! I mean, I might as well have just left a note saying, 'Hi, it's Quinn.'"

Rachel gulped against a drying throat, her neck heating up. "Wait… If it was you, then…" She stared at her shoes. "That's really mean, Quinn."

Quinn's brow and mouth puckered in confusion. "Huh?" She reached out gentle fingertips to prop Rachel's chin back up, connecting their eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You made me think someone had a crush on me! You wrote all that lovey-dovey stuff, _why?_ To rub it in that no one actually likes me like that? What's in that present you have there, huh? Will a Jack-in-the-Box pop up and punch me right in the face, holding a flag that says, '_Sucker_'?"

Sadness filled Quinn's eyes. "Why would you even _think_ that?"

"As if you've given me many reasons to otherwise over the past two and a half years of you torturing me," Rachel shot back, folding her arms to ward off a chill.

"Rachel…" Quinn sighed, the sound heavy and tired. "I know I've been horrible to you in the past, but… _Lately_, haven't you noticed that I've been nicer to you? That I've dropped the bullshit I used to have?"

Rachel didn't respond, _couldn't _respond. Confusion and disappointment rocked through her. She felt stupid for ever believing someone had liked her enough to write those notes from a place of sincerity.

"Just open my present," Quinn said, holding it out to her and offering a kind, nervous smile. "And then you'll finally understand… I hope. Because the giant hints dropping on your head so far haven't clued you in, but maybe this will."

"Okay, but open mine, too," Rachel said; they swapped gifts.

Rachel undid the bow on top and let it fall away before ripping off the wrapping paper. Underneath, she found a big, dark purple velvet box. She knew this box, recognized the name brand stamped across in fancy gold script: gourmet vegan chocolates. An order this size was well past twenty dollars, more like forty. Her eyes widened and heart warmed.

But the box wasn't sealed in protective clear wrap like it should have been; suspicious, she started to open the lid to see if Quinn had already eaten some of the chocolates. Quinn's hand shot onto hers.

"Wait! Uh… Wait until you get home to eat them, okay?" Quinn said. "You wouldn't want the vultures in here to see you with chocolates and then demand you let them have some, which you _know_ they will."

Rachel nodded and smiled, just a little bit, the bulk of her appreciation in her eyes. "Wow, thank you, Quinn. This is very nice of you." And it _was_ nice, but…she was still bewildered about the notes.

She noticed that Quinn still hadn't opened her present, and suddenly, Rachel was stricken with cold panic. She reached forward, grabbing at it. "Don't open this."

But Quinn smiled and stepped back, holding the present up high out of reach. "Nuh-uh-uh!"

"No, but, Quinn," Rachel's face and tone grew desperate. "I _really_ think you shouldn't open it."

But Quinn was already tearing through the paper with an eager grin, eyes filled with hope…until she saw what lay beneath. Her eyes dimmed and grin wavered, and she said, stunned, "Socks."

Rachel winced.

She had spent _three hours_ shopping for Quinn yesterday, but _nothing_ had seemed right. She just hadn't a clue what to get the girl who had everything. So, she'd gone with something cute and practical – a package of eight pairs of socks, all in fun colors and patterns. But dress them up whichever way you like, at the end of the day they were still just socks. Originally fifteen dollars but Rachel had gotten them on sale for ten. She had spent the bare minimum on Quinn's gift, and Quinn had spent _over_ the maximum on Rachel's.

"Not just any socks," Rachel said, but the words felt forced to her own ears, her smile plastic, "But really _colorful_ ones! And, ooh, look – polka dots! And that one has little hearts all over it, _ahhh_."

Quinn just stared at them blankly before mustering up a polite smile that didn't touch her eyes, not looking at Rachel as she said, "Yeah, thank you. This is…really something."

"What did you get; what did you get?" Their attention jumped over to find Brittany skipping over to them, a few other Glee Clubbers following behind her. "Tina got me and Lord Tubbington matching jackets that she sewed herself!" Brittany waved around the two pink jackets with cute little patches all over them of different things, the biggest being a rainbow leading into a fondue pot rather than a pot of gold. "It's perfect for advertising _Fondue for Two_."

"I didn't even know you _could_ sew," Artie said to Tina.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Tina winked.

"_Wanky_," Santana smirked and raised her eyebrows.

"Well, no offense, Brittany, but _I_ got the best gift from my Secret Santa," boasted Mercedes. She held up a Tupperware container of tater tots. "Finn made me homemade tots!"

Finn blushed and smiled as Mercedes beamed up at him and everyone stared at him in impressed surprise. "It's my mom's recipe."

"Well, now I am one _tot_ mama," Mercedes giggled with glee.

"Homemade food? That's really nice, Finn," Mike smiled.

"Thanks."

Mercedes popped open the top of the container and then popped a tater tot into her mouth, eyes closing in ecstasy. "And in that moment," she said, "I swear we were extra-crispy."

Everyone was over in the circle now, talking over one another as they bragged about what their Santa had gotten them; everyone had went above and beyond, it seemed.

"So, what did you get, Rachel?" Puck asked, reaching over to steal a tot from Mercedes – who _hissed_ at him before stepping away, cradling the container like it was a child, and whispering to herself, "_My precious_."

"Uh, Quinn got me some gourmet vegan chocolates," Rachel said, unable to make eye-contact with anyone.

"Sweet! And you, Quinn?"

"Socks," she said with a weak smile, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Rachel got me socks."

They all stared at her. "You're kidding me, right?" Lauren asked in monotone. "_Socks?_ That's just…sad."

"Tell that to a homeless person whose feet are cold right this very second and would _kill_ for something not only warm but _cute_ to wear before his toes freeze off!" Rachel snapped.

"_Master has given Quinnie a sock_," Sam said in a squeaky British accent. "_Quinnie is a free Elf now._"

"No, I agree with Lauren," Santana said. "What kind of a gift _is_ that?"

"A lameass one," Puck said.

"Hey, you guys, lay off of Rachel," Quinn said. "_I_ like them, and that's all that matters."

"Okay," Mike shrugged.

"Hey!" Puck's eyes lit up. "You know what this party needs?"

"What?" Artie asked.

"'The Chanukah Song!'" Puck raced off to the corner to grab his guitar while everyone laughed and followed after him.

Everyone except for Quinn and Rachel.

"Sorry I got you such a lame gift," Rachel sighed. "I still have the receipt if you want to take it back and get something else."

"No, I like socks," Quinn shrugged. "But _why_ did you get them for me?"

"I guess because…I feel like I don't really know you well enough to pick out a good present."

Quinn rolled her lips together and stared at the package of socks, gripped tightly in her hands. "That's funny, because I feel like I've known you my whole life."

Rachel's heart did a weird, scary dive into her stomach. "Wh-what do you mean?"

From behind them, the strumming of a guitar and everyone clapping along, followed by Puck's voice singing, "_Put on your yarmulke; here comes Chanukah; so much funakah; to celebrate Chanukah…_"

"Those letters you got from me weren't a joke."

Rachel just blinked at her.

Quinn closed her eyes, swallowed, and then leaned forward so that only Rachel could hear. "I really like you, Rachel. Everything I said in those letters was true."

Rachel could barely breathe; her stomach came alive with butterflies. She flashbacked: Quinn, how intense and _sad_ she looked when saying, 'Finn's not good enough for you.' Quinn, always frustrated with her, telling Rachel she doesn't _'_get it.' Quinn, breaking up with Finn because she 'didn't want to keep pretending anymore.'

"You…you do?"

Quinn nodded, her eyes arresting Rachel's with their utter conviction.

The song was getting louder as their friends got more into it, everyone singing along: "…_put on your yarmulke; it's time for Chanuuukaaahh; the owner of the Seattle Supersonicaaahhss; celebrates Chanukaaahh…_"

Rachel gulped. "But… For how long?"

"When did I first insult you?"

"Um, I think pretty much the first time we met."

"Then there you go."

Rachel gawked at her. "You can't _like_ me. You _hate_ me."

"No," Quinn smiled softly, almost sadly, her eyes beginning to glitter with moisture. "I don't. In fact, I'm kind of head-over-heels for you." She blushed redder than the trim around her dress.

Rachel felt like her whole world was spinning; everything she'd known as up was now down, and vice versa. "Why?"

Quinn made a sound more breath than laughter. "Because you're _you_."

"But you're also _you_," Rachel was blushing, too, her pulse in her fingertips, throat, everywhere. "You're Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn smiled a little but had never looked more scared and _hopeful_. "Does that mean you like me, too?"

Rachel hesitated, looked at the chocolates and then back to Quinn, uncertainty and fear all over her own face. "I don't…I don't know. I'm just…really shocked right now, Quinn."

Quinn nodded, but all the hope fell from her eyes. "Right."

Their eyes remained locked, a thousand emotions and words flowing between them in the silence, until Quinn drew in a shaky breath that looked like it pulled from her soul, her eyes huge and pained. "All righty then. I'm going to go. Merry Chri – er, Happy Chanukah, Rachel."

"Merry Christmas, Quinn," Rachel said, swallowing hard, her throat aching tight.

"…_tell your friend Veronica it's time to celebrate Chanukah; I hope I get a harmonica; oh this lovely, lovely Chanukah_…"

Quinn sniffled before turning away and hurrying out of the room, her head ducked.

And Rachel's heart broke in half.

Feeling heavy and cold all over, she opened up the dark purple velvet box, needing a piece of chocolate to cheer her up…and found, on top of rows upon rows of chocolates, the small gift bag from Gold and Silver.

Eyes widening, Rachel pulled the tissue paper out of the top and poured its contents into her outstretched hand. A card of paper fell out, along with a necklace.

The card said, not typed but in Quinn's sweet, tidy handwriting, '_You are the shiniest star of all of us, Rachel Berry. Bright enough for your own constellation. Thanks for always lighting up my world._' She'd drawn a heart, and then under it, written her signature.

"…_so drink your gin and tonicaahh; and smoke your marijuanikaahh_..."

"Hey!" Mr. Schue yelled. "Keep it school-appropriate, guys." They ignored him, of course, and kept singing, but it was all muted background noise to Rachel's pounding heart, the blood roaring in her ears.

She held up the necklace; a sterling silver chain with five small, white-gold star charms on it, each with their own shining diamond in the center.

"…_if you really, really wannakah; have a happy, happy, happy, happy Chanukaaahhhhhh…_"

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. She whipped her head toward the now empty doorway and, clutching the presents close to her, ran out into the hallway.

"…_Happy Chanukaaahh!_" trailed behind her, followed by the sound of everyone applauding and laughing.

"Quinn!" she called. "_Quinn!_"

But she was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

I fully intended to have this up on Christmas Eve, and then on Christmas, and then on the day _after_ Christmas... But things just got so busy! Better late than never, right? And hopefully the length will make up for the delay. :) I hope you all had a lovely holiday and will have an even happier New Year! :D

I cannot thank you all enough for the support and enthusiasm you have shown this story! I'm almost a little sad to be posting the final chapter, but I can't drag it out forever, no matter how fun that might be, lol. ;) Wow, this is my first time to ever complete an actual story... Granted, it's a mini-story, but still!

As always, enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think! xD

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Quinnie! Come help me frost the cookies."

Quinn set her book down onto the coffee table and rolled off the couch, sighing. "Okay, Mom."

"Happier, please."

Quinn walked into the kitchen. "Okay, Mom!" She mustered up a gloriously fake grin and clapped her hands together, shooting her arms up into a perfect V. "H-A-P-P-Y! IIIIII'mmm _happy!_" She jumped and touched her toes, landing on a bended knee with one hand on her hip and the other up high in the air, fingers wiggling with spirit.

Judy Fabray rolled her eyes but smiled in amusement. "You're a smartass, you know that, kid?"

"It's how I was raised," Quinn said, standing up and shrugging with the utmost innocence. But now she was kind of smiling, too, genuinely this time.

"Why so down in the dumps?" Judy asked, holding out a clean butter knife as Quinn approached her.

Quinn took it and grabbed a container of dark green frosting. "No reason." But she frowned down at her reflection in the knife's sparkling clean silver, feeling a sudden – and all-too-familiar – heaviness return to her gut.

Her eyes were so bright and green; her nose was so perfect; her lips were full and yet dainty at the same time. She was a total catch! … _Wasn't she?_ Why hadn't Rachel jumped at the chance to be with her? Why did she think so little of her to buy her _socks_, such a boring, impersonal gift? She sighed, pouting at herself and wallowing in self-pity, her heart tightening as she thought of the tiny girl with those glowing brown eyes and amazing voice and adorably questionable fashion taste.

A sad little sigh worked up from Quinn's chest before spilling past her downturned mouth.

"Quit looking at your reflection in that thing and start icing the cookies," Judy said, mock-scolding.

"I can't help it that I'm really, really, really, _ridiculously_ good-looking," Quinn said with a wink at her mom.

"Did you ever think that maybe there's more to life than being really, really, really, _ridiculously_ good-looking?"

"Yeah," Quinn gave a big, dreamy grin. "Like bacon."

Now she and Judy were giggling, and Quinn was able to – almost – shove away all heart-tugging thoughts of Rachel Berry from her mind.

Ten minutes into decorating the sugar cookies Judy had baked with green or red frosting, the doorbell rang.

"It's probably UPS," said Judy. "Would you get that?"

"Sure," Quinn scratched her nose.

When she opened the door – a gust of cold winter air stealing inside and smacking her face – she was fully prepared to find an older gentleman staring back, dressed in a brown UPS costume and holding a package to be signed for.

What she found instead was a short brunette girl holding a gift bag and smiling rather nervously. Rather _adorably_ nervously.

"Hi, Quinn," said none other than Rachel Berry, eyes bright, cheeks pink from the cold, and lifting up a hand sporting a fuzzy red mitten and waving. "Is this a bad time?"

* * *

Rachel released a long breath as she closed her car door behind her and started walking up the porch of the Fabray Estate.

Okay, it wasn't _really_ an estate. It was actually a more modest house than she'd anticipated, two stories and painted eggshell white with red shutters. Cute, but quaint.

Rachel had half-expected a giant stone castle with gargoyles shaped like bacon and a moat swimming with alligators guarding the gates. Anything else wasn't worthy to house a girl as glamorous as Quinn Fabray.

When she reached the front door, Rachel paused. There would be no going back after knocking. It was now or never: to Quinn, or not to Quinn, that is the question.

Her fist pounded the door, choosing the former.

A few seconds and accelerated heartbeats later, and the door swung open, revealing Quinn.

Rachel's heart melted at the sight: the always-pristine girl wore a simple gray sweatshirt, a pair of dark pink sweatpants, and her hair framed a face devoid of any makeup whatsoever. It was officially her favorite look for the girl. And, honestly, she was just glad Quinn hadn't answered the door with tear-reddened eyes, clutching a bundle of crusty old tissues as the song "Last Christmas" blared on repeat in the background.

"Hi, Quinn. Is this a bad time?"

Quinn just gaped at her, dumbstruck.

"You, uh…you've got some frosting on your nose," Rachel's smile turned affectionate as she gestured at her own nose, illustrating the concept.

Quinn blinked, then blushed, ducking her head as she swiped away the dark red smudge.

"Rachel," she said, looking at her again with fear and excitement, "Wh…what are you doing here?"

Rachel pulled her coat farther around her; the temperature was below freezing, and snow was forecasted to fall within the hour. "I come bearing gifts." She held up the large gift bag with snowmen all over it.

Quinn rubbed her feet together; Rachel noticed that she wore a pair of bright rainbow-striped socks.

"Hey!" Rachel beamed. "You're wearing a pair of the socks I got you!"

Quinn stared down at them as if she'd forgotten and then smiled softly when her eyes reconnected with Rachel's jubilant ones. "Yeah. They're comfy."

"Only the best for you," Rachel said, to which Quinn quirked an eyebrow.

"Er…I mean… Okay, it was a lame present," Rachel tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "But I'm here to make it up to you."

Quinn cocked her head, eyes alight with hope. "What do you mean?"

Rachel thrust out the bag. "Here! Take it; it's yours."

Smile turning curious, Quinn took the bag and pulled out the red tissue paper inside, hand rooting before it unearthed the first object.

As she pulled out the book, Rachel started babbling. "I, uh, well, I know I said I don't know you that well, but I got to thinking last night, like _a lot_, and I realized I know you a lot better than I thought I did."

Quinn stared at the cover, biting her lip thoughtfully as she read the title: _Patti Lupone: A Memoir_.

"I know you love to read, so I got you my favorite book, because I think you will really enjoy reading about the fabulous life of a Broadway star," Rachel continued, as Quinn pulled out another book, this one reading _Murder on the Orient Express_.

"That's by Agatha Christie, arguably the best female detective writer, and that's one of her most famous works. I bought myself a copy, too, and I was thinking we could read it together and have our own little book club, so that way maybe I could actually learn some pointers on investigating since I did such a bad job of it this past week," Rachel said, nervously gauging Quinn's reaction – the blonde was staring at the books with her lips quirked up the slightest in a smile and her eyes glowing with warmth.

Quinn pulled out the last item; it elicited a laugh, made her gaze at Rachel with eyes that Rachel realized were glittering with a thin layer of tears. "Tofu bacon? Seriously?" But she sounded as delighted as she did incredulous.

"Well, yeah! I was thinking I could come over sometime, or you could come over, and I could cook it for you. It's referred to as 'fakeon' in the vegan lexicon, and maybe we could eat it together? It's pretty good, but probably not going to be as good to you as bacon, but, you know… You never know!" Rachel clutched her hands and swayed, taking a steadying breath to pull her racing nerves together.

"I love it! All of it! Thank you." Their gazes held meaningfully, and Rachel nodded her 'you're welcome.'

"Quinn, I… I left you that note that said you are the prettiest girl I've ever met," Rachel said. "And you _are_ the prettiest girl I've ever met, but…you're a lot more than that." She smiled a soft, shy smile, dimples popping out. "And I'm sorry it took me so long to finally realize that."

Quinn blinked a few times, her eyes turning less glassy as she did so, and then her mouth dove upward into a shy but happy and _gorgeous_ grin that had Rachel feeling lost in it, in the most wondrous way.

"Do you, d-do…" Quinn licked her smiling lips, shrugged with more casualness than her face showed. "Do you want to come inside? We could make the 'fakeon.' And you could help my mom and I ice some cookies."

"Do I get to put some frosting on my nose, too?" Rachel giggled.

"I would be insulted if you didn't," Quinn winked (and Rachel's stomach swooped), throwing the door open all the way.

Rachel stepped inside, shedding layers of clothing as she met the warm air of the Fabray household and left behind the cold winter outside.

"Here, I'll take that," Quinn said, hurrying to help Rachel with her scarf, coat, and mittens. Rachel wore a white sweater with small blue Christmas trees all over it, a black miniskirt, white tights, and black Mary-Jane shoes.

But all Quinn saw when she looked at her – besides how enchanting the girl's smile was as she excitedly looked around at Quinn's living room – was the necklace, hanging at the perfect point of her chest, right above her breasts.

"You're wearing it," Quinn blurted out with ample joy.

Rachel gazed down at the star-charm necklace, hooking a finger at it and toying with the stars before returning her eyes up to Quinn's. Hazel-green and amber-brown burned together with affection.

"Yeah, of course I am; I really, really love it. It's _gorgeous_, Quinn. Thank you."

Quinn blushed. "I saw it when I was searching for star-themed jewelry online, and I knew I had to get it for you."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Now Rachel was blushing, too.

"Quinn," Judy's voice called from the kitchen. "That doesn't sound like UPS."

Quinn set the presents Rachel had gotten her and Rachel's winter wear neatly out on the loveseat. Then, she held out her hand to Rachel as an endearingly gentle smile appeared. "Come on."

Rachel smiled back and slipped her hand into Quinn's; it was a warm, steady, perfect fit. Quinn wasted no time in lacing their fingers together, and Rachel felt her heart leap forward as Quinn tugged her along to the kitchen.

Quinn was giggling, her face flushed with bright joy, as she pulled Rachel to a stop beside her in the kitchen. Their hips bumped together, a tantalizing rebound of bone to bone.

"Hey, Mom," Quinn said.

Judy looked up from a cookie, her stare falling to Quinn and Rachel's joined hands. "Oh." A second, and then Judy's face lit up with glee. "Oh! Hi! You must be Rachel."

Rachel bubbled with joy, licking her lips as they spread upward into a jubilant smile. "You've heard about me?"

"_Please_," Judy snorted, returning her attention to frosting a cookie. "Quinn wouldn't shut up about you all last week when she got you for Secret Santa. It was, 'Mom, do you think Rachel would prefer a necklace or a bracelet?' and 'Mom, how should I word this poem?'"

"_Mom!_"

"What?" Judy chuckled – as did Rachel. "It's cute of you, Quinn."

"Yeah," Rachel squeezed their interwoven hands, capturing Quinn's attention. "It's cute."

Quinn's eyes grew wide; she quickly looked away, cheeks an adorable shade of red. Rachel felt like she could explode with happiness.

"Do, um, do you need our help here?" Quinn asked Judy.

Judy shook her head. "I just frosted the last cookie. I'm going to go upstairs, actually." She raised her eyebrows at her, rife with meaning, before boring her stare into Rachel. "You be good to my Quinnie. I've heard you're a sweet girl, but if you mess with the mama bull, you're gonna get the mama horns, you got it?" She held up her forefinger and middle finger and thrust them in Rachel's direction a few times.

"OhmyGod, Mo-_om!_" Quinn stomped her foot and bugged her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Rachel giggled. "You don't have to worry about that. I'll treat Quinn like a princess."

Judy smiled wide (but Quinn smiled wider). "Good! All right, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, Rachel. And Quinn, you make sure your _special_ _guest _is comfortable."

As Judy passed by to leave the kitchen, she ruffled Quinn's hair and shot a sweet wink to Rachel.

Rachel rubbed her thumb across the back of Quinn's hand in soothing circles, relishing the way their hands fit. Quinn's seemed to be made for hers, unlike Finn's, whose were _way_ too big, like a glove that kept slipping off Rachel's fingers. Quinn's were like a cashmere custom-fit.

"It's okay," Rachel said, "Don't be embarrassed. Your mom seems really cool."

"She is. And thanks."

"So… What do you want to do now?" Quinn asked, turning her hand around in Rachel's so she could play with her fingertips, curling and uncurling against them with her own.

Rachel smiled. "I'm hungry for some lunch, if you are."

"Yeah, sounds good." Quinn reluctantly dropped her hand from Rachel's. "How about you go get the fakeon, and I'll start chopping up a salad."

"Sounds good!" Rachel nodded and fired off a peppy salute with no irony whatsoever that had Quinn giggling.

As Rachel retrieved the tofu bacon, Quinn pulled out some spinach, kale, tomatoes, strawberries, and blueberries to make a salad. She was pulling down the large wooden mixing bowl when Rachel walked back in with the fakeon.

"Took you long enough," Quinn teased.

"I was admiring all the framed portraits of you and your mother. I particularly like the one of you and guys and the dog wearing the Santa hat."

"That's my golden retriever, Buttercup," Quinn said, tossing cupfuls of fruit into a colander and rinsing it in the sink. "She's outside, if you want to meet her sometime."

Rachel grinned. "Sure! I love dogs." She walked over to Quinn, placed the tofu bacon on the kitchen island. "Do you need any help with the salad?"

Quinn shut off the water. "No, thanks. You could start the fakeon; I would have no idea how to prepare it."

As Quinn made the salad and Rachel made the tofu, the kitchen coming alive with heady smells, they made light conversation but mainly kept sneaking glances and coy smiles at each other. Quinn looked over the moon, which was exactly how Rachel felt. The inside of her stomach was coated with a delicious warmth that rose and dipped and rose again each time she and Quinn made direct eye-contact or she caught Quinn checking out her ass or Quinn caught _her_ checking out her ass. They reached for the salt shaker at the same time, their hands brushing, and Rachel swore she heard Quinn's sharp intake of breath, as if that slight pinkie-to-pinkie contact had been her undoing.

Rachel couldn't believe it had taken her until now to realize her true feelings for Quinn. She'd always admired the blonde's beauty – perhaps _too_ much – and had sort of obsessed over her even more than with Finn, following her around and always trying to get the opportunity to talk to her, to befriend her. Quinn's gifts to Rachel yesterday, and all of the sweet letters she'd left throughout the week, all of that combined with Quinn telling Rachel in person how she really felt – well, they were the wake-up call Rachel needed. Knowing a girl as amazing as Quinn Fabray actually, _really_ like-liked Rachel made it okay for her to like-like her back without fear of what would happen if it wasn't reciprocated.

As Rachel grabbed the leftover container of spinach that hadn't gone into the salad, about to put it back into the refrigerator for Quinn, she was struck with a _perfect_ idea that sent her stomach churning and veins almost popping with electric anticipation.

Rachel plucked a spinach leaf and set the bowl down, sidling up beside Quinn, who was humming cheerily to herself as she used two wooden spoons to toss the salad.

"Quinn," Rachel pressed her lips together to hide an epic smile.

She turned to Rachel with an expectant smile of her own. "Yes?"

Rachel lifted up the leaf of spinach. "I found this."

Quinn smirked with amusement and lifted her eyebrows. "Ah, yes. _Quite_ the detective you are. It must have taken a lot of digging to find one spinach leaf amongst the pile in the bowl right behind you."

Rachel left it high above their heads and made it do a little dance; Quinn watched it, entranced, smiling as if she couldn't believe how good her luck was that the girl of her dreams was in her kitchen, waving leafy greens around like a total goober.

"I couldn't find any mistletoe," Rachel said in a voice that lilted into a flirtatious kind of innocence. "So, I improvised."

Quinn's eyes widened and then froze, right along with her smile, at the spinach-turned-mistletoe, in a manner cute and comical enough that Rachel laughed, just a little. She waved the spinach.

Quinn gulped and brought her scared eyes to Rachel. Scared, but in the exhilarated way, the adrenaline-pumping-roller-coaster kind.

"Am I going to hold my arm up all day, or are you going to ki – " Before Rachel could even finish her giggling, taunting sentence, Quinn's arms shot around Rachel's waist, looping tight and pulling her close, and two sets of plump, pretty, girlie lips met together in a slip-and-slide of nipping, tugging mouths. All giggles and words were chased from their minds by the feeling of silky, lip-balmed lips getting to know each other.

Fireworks exploded between them as if New Year's had arrived early. Their hearts zoomed, stomachs twirled with tipsy butterflies, and they felt the overwhelmingly, _perfect_ sensation that this was _right_. This, kissing each other, was what they were meant to do since they first met, was what they were _made_ to do.

Rachel dropped the spinach leaf, forgot all about it, as her eyes fluttered shut and her hands fell to Quinn's head, one tangling through soft blonde hair as the other caressed a soft pale cheek.

A little moan escaped from each as their breasts pressed and mouths dug deeper, with Quinn's tongue flicking just-so against the seam of Rachel's mouth. Quinn tightened her arms around Rachel's tiny waist, the girl's miniskirt starting to ride up as Rachel shoved her body farther against Quinn's. Her leg slipped up against the blonde's sweatpants and bucked instinctively; another moan. Quinn's impatient tongue shoved into Rachel's mouth and massaged hers hotly, wetly. Their groans turned loud, fevered with lust.

They shifted backward, legs tangling as they stumbled against the counter –there was the sound of something falling, hitting the tile with a clatter that startled them enough to break apart. They took a few steps away so they could clear their minds from the fog of deliciousness that had just encased their entire beings.

Panting to catch their breath and staring at each other with pupil-dilated, affection-scorched eyes, they stood: Quinn, her hands on her hips, and Rachel, tugging down her miniskirt to stop a peepshow.

"Wow," Quinn breathed, gulping.

"I'll say," Rachel murmured, taking a wondrously shaky breath that pulled all the way through her. She licked her lips, and Quinn's greedy eyes traced the path of the girl's tongue.

She had just kissed a girl, and she had _definitely _like it, but contrary to pop culture folklore, she hadn't tasted like cherry ChapStick. More like mint and vanilla and something sweet and original that could only belong to Quinn (which was _much_ better than boring ChapStick. Take that, Katy Perry!).

"We should probably pick that up," Rachel said, nodding at the explosion of spinach, kale, tomatoes, strawberries, and blueberries that poured out of an upside-down bowl.

Quinn burst into laughter. "Oh my God! The salad!"

"A casualty from our kissing," Rachel said, cracking up with her. "We should really come with warning labels." They exchanged conspiring smiles that they both found incredibly sexy before cleaning up the mess.

They had to make another bowl of salad – which took a lot longer than it should have, when they kept pausing to steal kisses, touch each other's shoulder, stroke each other's hair, bump hips, any kind of contact whatsoever. They were insatiable, and the other girl was their biggest, no, _only_ craving.

Finally, they were sitting at the kitchen table, each with a bowl of salad, a plate of fakeon, and a glass of water. They sat side-by-side rather than across from one another, their ankles hooked together and bodies angled to face each other on their chairs.

As they ate, they couldn't stop smiling and giggling and blushing, for no reason other than that they were with the other. Rachel kept playing with her necklace, and Quinn kept reaching over to play with Rachel's hair.

"So," Rachel said, taking a bite of the delicious salad (_mmm,_ she could _taste_ the healthy), "Do you like the fakeon?"

"Well, it's _nothing_ compared to the real thing, but yeah, it's actually pretty good." Quinn took a hearty bite of it to illustrate her point. "Maybe a _little _bit burnt…" She tried not to wince as she tasted the char.

Rachel chuckled. "Okay, maybe I'm not the best cook…"

"Can't investigate to save her life, can't cook without burning, can't even go to a jewelry store without getting banned for life…" Quinn danced her fork around as she counted off the offenses, her tone light and playful. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You could kiss me into submission," Rachel said, so hopefully that Quinn grinned past her ears. "Show me how to be a proper lady with each kiss of your perfect lips."

"Perfect lips, huh?"

Rachel nodded and sipped from her water, eyeing Quinn over the rim.

"Your lips are pretty flawless yourself. In fact, if I hadn't been sure before, they would have convinced me that I'm one-hundred-percent into you, Rachel Berry."

"Same to you, Quinn Fabray," Rachel looked up from her eyelashes and tugged at her lower lip with her top teeth, adorably happy and excited-nervous; Quinn's face softened as she reached over a hand to smooth down Rachel's silky brown hair.

After they resumed eating, Rachel asked, "So, how long have you known you were gay?"

"Known it ever since middle school; accepted it ever since last year."

"Oh?" Rachel cocked her head, curious. She found herself wanting to know everything about Quinn. And Quinn found herself wanting to tell her everything.

"Yeah. I mean, I've felt an attraction toward you since freshman year, which I always tried to ignore, of course. That's why I was always so mean to you, which I really am sorry about."

Rachel waved a hand through the air. "Forgiven and forgotten."

"Thanks, but I still feel guilty about how awful I used to be."

"I kind of take it as a compliment, actually, knowing your passionate rage was only implemented against me because you were afraid of it being pure passion instead."

"Exactly," Quinn nodded. "So, when I joined Glee Club, I kind of got a full-blown crush on you, which of course I ignored. And then there was the whole me getting pregnant with Beth," she paused to stare down at her napkin, twisting it in her fingers and frowning.

Rachel placed her hand on top of Quinn's and curled their fingers together to steady her, loaning strength and support. Quinn looked up, frown reversing into a grateful little smile, and Rachel smiled back with gentle understanding, and tenderness in eyes.

"As you know, my parents kicked me out when I got pregnant. But the only good thing about that is that when my mom came begging me for some semblance of a relationship again, with her tail tucked between her legs and knowing she had a _lot_ of making up to do, I knew I had the upper-hand, for once with either of my parents. So, about a week after Beth was born, when I was moving out of Mercedes' and back into my old house, _this _house, and I knew I could still go back to Mercedes' if I wanted to…" Quinn took a breath to compose herself, a thousand memories running through her eyes. She gripped Rachel's hand tighter; Rachel gripped back.

"I told my mom that if she wanted to have a relationship with me, it had to be the _real_ me. So I came out to her. And…she wasn't all that shocked, actually. She just hugged me and said we'd work everything out. I told her that if I ever for a second felt she wasn't fully supporting me for who I am, or if I didn't feel cared for and wanted here, that I would move back with Mercedes. 'Cedes didn't know – _still_ doesn't know – that I'm gay, but she did know I didn't have a good relationship with my parents, obviously, and she told me I was always welcome back to her house if my mom didn't make me feel comfortable in my own."

"And since you're still here…" Rachel trailed off.

"Since I'm still here," Quinn smiled, linking their fingers all the way together. "My mom made a complete 180 on her parenting. That's to say she actually _became_ one." A little laugh. "She was so afraid of losing me again, especially since she doesn't have my dad as her backbone anymore, that she started reading all these parenting books, and we did some family therapy together, and she stopped drinking for good. She occasionally used to hit the bottle pretty hard, back when she and my dad would fight, which was, like, every night," Quinn added in way of explanation. Rachel nodded sympathetically.

"I'm really happy for you, Quinn. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my own mother, but hey, at least I have two amazing dads to make up for it."

"About that… Isn't it weird that your mom is my daughter's step-mom?" Quinn pulled a face. "Doesn't that make us kind of, like, _related?_"

Rachel chuckled and shook her head with vehemence. "Yes, it's weird, but no, if it's any kind of relation, it's in the most distant sense. Trust me."

"Wait, so when I was making-out with you… I was making-out with my daughter's step-sister! I _am_ a bad mom," Quinn laughed but then stopped and sighed.

Rachel half-chuckled, half-groaned at the humor before turning serious. "You're not a bad mom, Quinn! You gave up Beth because you felt you wouldn't be able to raise her well enough. You were only sixteen; I think you made a very brave and selfless decision."

"I'm going to reconnect with her," Quinn said, with so much conviction that Rachel almost got tears in her eyes with pride for the beautiful girl beside her, especially so on the inside and not just the out. "Shelby sends me letters; I got a holiday card a few weeks ago. In it, she asked if I wanted to see Beth over Christmas, and I'm going to say yes."

"That's great!" Rachel squealed, giving Quinn's hand a little shake. "You're getting your life together, Quinn. I'm so proud of you!"

Quinn blushed and smiled down at their joined hands. "Thanks."

"So, a few more questions," Rachel said, bubbling up with energy. "You've kept me in the dark for so long that I have quite a few mysteries I need settled."

Quinn leaned over, kissed a sweet peck to Rachel's (now blushing) cheek, and said when she sat back down, "Lay 'em on me."

"Okay, well, why did you get back together with Finn two weeks ago? Especially if you said that you accepted you were gay last year."

Quinn twisted her nose and mouth to the side, self-deprecating as she shrugged a little. "I'm not proud to admit it, but I wanted the popularity boost. But then I realized it just wasn't worth it. Kissing him gives me _no_ sparks, and we have nothing in common, and it's not worth sacrificing who I am just for some stupid school hierarchy that won't even matter after we graduate."

"I completely agree with your wisdom. And for the record, though kissing Finn did give me sparks in the past, kissing _you_ gave me fireworks."

"It was like the Fourth of July," Quinn agreed.

They giggled; Quinn lifted their hands up and brushed kisses to the back of Rachel's knuckles.

"I'm so glad you like me," Rachel said, sniffling a little with happy tears. It was a blurt of affection, so adorable with its earnestness that Quinn guffawed.

"Of course I do! What's not to like? You're perfect."

Rachel beamed but then sighed. "I wish we hadn't wasted the past two and a half years being frenemies."

"Me too," Quinn's eyes sparkled, "But that just means we'll have to make up for lost time."

Rachel tittered. "I like the sound of that." She took another bite of food, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. "So, why now? Why did you decide to tell me how you felt _now_, of all times?"

"I honestly wasn't planning on it; I was still too afraid to imagine your rejection. But I prayed about it for a while, and then when I got you for Secret Santa, it was like a sign that I needed to do it."

"Well, for the record, I'm glad you did," Rachel winked.

"Same here."

They clinked their water glasses together.

"Now I have to ask you, what made you realize that you like _me?_" asked Quinn. "I'm assuming you do, as more than a friend, considering that epic kiss we just had."

"Oh, yes, I do. And I think I've always had a crush on you, but I was too obsessed with Finn and using him as a decoy to realize it. I mean, it's not as devastating at the idea of Finn not wanting me, but the idea of the goddess Quinn Fabray rejecting me… I used to think I only wanted you as a friend, and you always denied my offers of friendship, so…" A dainty shrug; a frown from Quinn. "I guess imagining you denying offers of further feelings were too horrible for even my dramatic being to bear."

"I'm sorry I was such an idiot," Quinn said with a sigh of regret.

"Don't be," Rachel shook her head. "Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe it needed to take us longer to get together, so we could appreciate it more."

"Well, whatever the reason, I will say this," Quinn lifted her glass high in the air and turned a grateful glance to the ceiling. "Santa is one awesome matchmaker."

"I'll second that," Rachel toasted their glasses again, and they laughed, sharing bright smiles.

They ate the rest of their food, parting hands tragically to do so, falling into easy conversation and laughter. It was the lightest either girl had ever felt in their entire lives, like they could drift away on a sudden burst of laughter or gust of air.

* * *

After they cleaned up and put away their dishes, Quinn made hot chocolate. Though it wasn't vegan, there were certain things Rachel caved to every once in a while, as long as it didn't contain meat or eggs, and one of those things was non-vegan chocolate.

They added whipped cream and sprinkles and cherries and all the works to their mugs, stirring them with peppermint sticks, wiping whipped cream on each other's noses (and then licking it off). They giggled like schoolgirls, flirted and teased and felt filled to bursting with pure, unadulterated _happiness_.

Rachel got to meet Buttercup, but she was too rambunctious – nearly spilling the hot cocoa in Rachel's hands – that the dog had to go back outside. Now, the two girls sat thigh-to-thigh on the couch, sipping their drinks and watching TV.

"When should we start our book club?" Quinn asked, eyes falling to the Agatha Christie novel sitting on the loveseat beside them.

"How about after the New Year?"

"Sounds good to me. Maybe we could invite 'Cedes, too? I miss hanging out with her."

"You must have gotten really close with her last year, huh? Living at her house and all." Rachel tried not to sound too jealous.

"Yeah, she's one of my closest friends," Quinn smiled. "But I like you _more_ than a friend, so no pouting, okay?" She kissed that plump mouth to turn that frown upside-down; it worked like a charm, Rachel smiling against her lips as she returned the soft, lingering pressure of the kiss.

Quinn snaked a hand behind Rachel's head and deepened the smooch with a skillful, delving tongue. They tasted hot chocolate and peppermint and the even sweeter taste of the other. Rachel felt her heart zip to her toes, spill out on the floor in a warm, joyful pool.

When their lips smacked apart, Rachel said with a goofy-giddy grin, "There's actually one more present I got you, but I wanted to wait until the perfect moment to give it to you. And I think that perfect moment is now."

"You _think?_" Quinn raised her eyebrows, and this time, cupped Rachel's face with her hands, kissing her so hard and claiming that Rachel's whole world turned wondrously dizzy and she could barely even kiss Quinn back because she was too busy focusing on not passing out.

Quinn kissed both of Rachel's flushed cheeks and then her forehead before leaning back, and even then she left an arm twined around Rachel's shoulders.

"Okay, I _know_," Rachel amended breathlessly, eyes fluttering open to find Quinn biting at her lip and staring at Rachel like all she wanted to do for the rest of her life was kiss her.

Rachel kissed Quinn's shoulder as she pulled her arm away from her own shoulders, and then hopped to her feet and bounded over to her coat on the loveseat. She pulled out the little black velvet box from the pocket and then stepped over to Quinn, her face alight with a bashfulness so adorable that Quinn leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and danced her fingers against her beaming mouth as she gazed dreamily back at her.

"Quinn Fabray, it took me too long to find you, but now that I have, I never want to lose you. You are everything I could ever want; if I had to choose between being stuck in an elevator with you or Barbra, I would pick you. _That_ is how I know you're The One."

"The One, huh?" Quinn danced her head from side-to-side, but eyes remained glowing and steady.

"Well, yeah! Kissing you is like singing a solo to an audience – it's the best feeling in the world, and I know it's what I was meant to do. When you know, you just _know_," Rachel's eyes widened emphatically.

Quinn's dreamy sigh worked all the way up her body. "Am I dreaming?"

"I assure you this is very much real. Would you like me to pinch you?"

"Depends which part of my body you're talking about," Quinn winked; Rachel giggled.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel took a deep breath and dropped to one knee as she popped open the little velvet box. Inside was a ring with a white-gold band and a beautiful, glittering oval emerald on top. "Will you do me the profound honor of being my girlfriend?"

"Are you kidding me?! Of course! Of course!" Quinn broke into giddy giggle-breaths and offered her right hand; grinning from ear to ear, her own hand shaking, Rachel took the liberties of sliding the ring onto Quinn's ring finger. A perfect fit.

Quinn held up her hand to the light and tilted the ring every which way, watching as its deep, gorgeous greenness glittered with little pinpoints of light. It took her breath away – and the sight of Quinn's loving reaction took _Rachel's_ breath away.

"I got you an emerald," she explained after a moment, when Quinn's adoring gaze returned to hers, "Because they're the only jewel that comes close to matching the beauty of your eyes. Seriously, your eyes are _amazing_."

"I love it," Quinn's voice was soft but eyes were softer, and smile was practically supernova. "It's… It's _perfect_, Rach! _You_ are perfect!" She held out her arms, tears in her eyes. "Come here!"

Rachel returned to her spot beside Quinn on the couch, warm tears now poking her own eyes. They kissed, building in pressure, lips slip-and-sliding along with their fluttering hearts.

"Don't say I never got you anything pretty," Rachel giggled, her sweet, heated breath tickling Quinn's mouth. Quinn kissed her to chase away the sensation. "Did I redeem myself from the socks?"

"I would say so," Quinn grinned against plump lips. "I would _definitely _say so."

They snuggled together on the couch under a blanket, holding hands and using their free ones to sip their hot chocolate as they watched a cute, Christmas-themed romantic-comedy movie that came on TV.

"We're going about this all backwards," Rachel said, eyes closed against the soothing sensation of Quinn playing with her hair. "We've both done the declarations of love, the first kiss, and we've even officially become girlfriend-and-girlfriend."

"But…"

"But, we haven't gone on a first date yet."

"Every Christmas, my mom, Dad, and I always see _Bacon on Ice!_ We have VIP season passes," said Quinn, in the too-casual tone of someone who was proposing an idea they had really been thinking about for a while. "Now that my dad's out of the picture – and I'm better for it, _trust _me – well… Would you like to go with us, Rachie?" Her fingers stroked Rachel from temple to tip, running through silky dark-brown, and Rachel was so distracted with the relaxation that it took her a delayed reaction to burst out a laugh rife with mirth.

"Oh my God! _Bacon on Ice!_ is actually a real thing? I thought Finn was making that up. But, _yes_, I would love and be honored to go with you… As long as I don't have to actually _eat_ any bacon while there."

"You won't," Quinn assured her, then gave a little squeal of excitement. "It will be so fun! Though I must warn you, _I_ will be eating all the bacon-food I can get my hands on… Bacon cake, bacon soup, bacon hot chocolate… And my _favorite_, bacon wrapped in bacon friend in bacon and then dipped in bacon bits."

Rachel was cracking up. "You have _got_ to be making that up, Quinn!"

Rachel's laugh was so contagious that Quinn guffawed with her. "No! I promise, I'm not. If you're going to date me, you're going to have to love me for all my little quirks and obsessions."

"Hey, if you agree to handle monthly Barbra movie marathons, then I can handle your love for bacon." Rachel's eyes opened as she looked at Quinn, both of their faces beaming.

"Deal!" Quinn sealed it with a nod.

"You know," Rachel said, lifting a finger to twirl around a lock of soft blonde, "If you're going to be chowing down on dead animal carcasses throughout our date" (a whack on the air and a little scoff from Quinn) "then I'm not going to be able to kiss you afterward." She pouted an adorable pout.

"Well then," Quinn's eyes gleamed. "I guess we better kiss now to make up for it, huh?"

"It's like you're reading my mind," Rachel's eyes widened and head danced. She slung her arms around Quinn's neck, and Quinn brought her arms up around Rachel's middle, resting her hands against the small of her back.

They kissed, and it was like fireworks all over again, and it would _always_ be like fireworks all over again, because their chemistry was circuited toward the other. They were each other's The One, no doubt about it.

…And up in the North Pole, a jolly-bellied fellow dressed all in red with white trim sat behind an oak desk. He stroked a long curly white beard and watched the scene unfold in the giant clear globe on his desk, the one labeled 'LIMA, OHIO.'

He chuckled merrily and his portly stomach wobbled and jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. Taking a beautiful quill, he dipped it in ink and put a checkmark next to 'Berry, Rachel' and then 'Fabray, Quinn' on a large parchment scroll labeled '_NICE_.' It was the best present he could have given either of them: the other. You didn't think they just _happened_ to draw each other for Secret _Santa_, now did you? Santa's got moves. (Wait until Cupid hears about this at the next Mythical Creatures Support Group Meeting. He's going to be _so jealous! _He's been working on the Berry-Fabray Case for ages, but Santa Claus finally gave them the push they needed.)

"Careful, girls," he smiled and jokingly _tsk_'d as their kisses turned more heated, "Or you're going to go on the 'Naughty' list with your friends Noah and Santana." Such a shame that a girl with half his namesake in hers would turn out to be such a lump-of-coal magnet…especially when her girlfriend, Brittany, was always the first name he wrote on the 'Nice List' each year, alphabetical order be damned.

His work here done with Rachel and Quinn (and not wanting to be a voyeur), he clapped his meaty, white-gloved hands and the globe filled with whirling bits of snow before fading away to reveal yet another couple in 'Lima, Ohio' that he had brought together this Christmas. Kurt and Blaine looked into each other's eyes adoringly, linking fingers with one hand and holding their microphones with the other as they sang 'Santa, Baby' to a dancing crowd at a mall.

Santa started dancing in his chair and singing along, eyes closed as he thrust his forefingers at the air. "_I've been an awful good girrll..._" He giggled, stood up, and shook his big red booty. "_Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!_" he cheered.

"Not until next week, Kris," Mrs. Claus shouted from the couch, where she knitted a scarf for one of the little boys who'd asked for it on their Christmas List. "And you know I think that song's offensive."

Santa walked over to his wife, planting a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Sorry, dear, and I know it's not until next week, but I just get so excited!"

"I'll feed the reindeer," Mrs. Claus smiled up at him; he bonked her nose and she crinkled it teasingly back at him, "But it's your turn to make us lunch."

'_Patriarchal rein ingrained in Western society' my sleigh! _Santa thought. That really had hurt his feelings for Rachel to say that – if only she knew how he and Mrs. Claus worked together. But it's okay, even the nicest people can sometimes be a bit naughty.

Speaking of Rachel and her girlfriend…

"How about some bacon?" Santa asked. "Of all things, I've got the strongest craving for it…"


End file.
